


Gravity

by hisboywriter



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Light BDSM, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:28:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 81,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3217508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisboywriter/pseuds/hisboywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi doesn’t see the man at first, but when he does he’s pretty fucking sure he wants to punch him in the face.</p><p>~</p><p>AKA a modern fic with underground-fighter Levi meets Erwin</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Levi doesn’t see the man at first, but when he does he’s pretty fucking sure he wants to punch him in the face.

It’s possible the urge is aggravated by the music blasting through the club being only a fraction less obnoxious than the pests congesting it, and the fact that Levi’s still sore from the fight he had not two hours earlier.

Either way, old money and poise exude from the creep staring at him through the swarm of swaying hips and sweeping arms. The kind of man that has the luxury linger at the mirror to smooth his blonde hair into the perfection it is now, like the world’s rotation depended on it. Levi knows the type. You don’t live in this shithole without knowing the faces of all the enemies, especially those disguised in Armani or whatever brand name the man was wearing, and he was definitely wearing it like a second skin.

Levi flips him off (he holds up his arm high to ensure the sentiment is received) and decides not to wonder why someone like that bothers with a wannabe luxury club that can’t even screen fake licenses properly. He has enough troubles to juggle.

And right now the one that’s hauled his ass out here is a particular brat that plans to make use of the club’s shitty I.D. verification.

His phone vibrates. It’s Mikasa, telling him Eren isn’t replying to her messages and asking if he’s arrived at the club. Levi tucks his phone away without a reply, then fingers the pocketknife he carries in his other pocket. Another thing the club doesn’t bother to do: pat-downs.

Levi sneaks a glance.

The man’s still staring.

Levi grits his teeth and wills himself to ignore him, to look away and scan the crowds once more. Eren will be here any moment, and Levi’s anger has been festering for the better part of ten minutes now, ready to lock onto the punk and fire.

And because Levi’s short, and there’s no helping that, he’s utilizing a stool at one of the bars lined in the club. He studies the tops of heads and faces when they peep around hands holding drinks. Still nothing.

Levi takes sip of his water, feeling an ache in his temples sharpening. His knuckles are throbbing, and there’s a nick on his cheek that’s starting to sting. The bastard he fought got a lucky graze. It’d been a long day, one that didn’t end with him sinking into a bath and instead heading back out into New York’s chill to hunt for a reckless punk. It makes his fingers itch to do more than just scold Eren.

“Good evening.”

The voice is potent in richness, a deep sound that somehow cuts under the thump and crash of this forsaken music. Levi glances over despite himself, and finds blondie sliding into the stool beside him. The guy’s huge in all the right ways, and the scent he gives off is anything but unpleasant.

Levi clenches his fist once and ignores the greeting because he knows his own vibe is shouting ‘get lost’. He doubts anyone is stupid enough to really engage with him.

“What’s your name?” blondie asks.

“Piss off.”

“Kind of a rude name, don’t you think?” The asshole sounds amused.

“Yeah, it means ‘fuck you’.”

Levi picks up on the sound of the guy chuckling through his nose, and it’s a frustratingly pleasant sound. Then again Levi only has the thud in his own head and the club music to reference it against.

“I’m Erwin.”

Jesus, was this guy for real? Levi levels a hard stare his way, and finds Erwin raking his eyes over him.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Levi asks, because Erwin doesn’t look the slightest bit put off. Maybe he gets his kicks taming the wild ones. It isn’t the first guy to try.

“I’m not.” Erwin smiles a small, professional smile to the barkeep, indirectly beckoning her over. The woman obeys.  “What are you drinking?”

The sudden need to keep a vigilant eye on his drink has Levi grip the half-empty glass. He can use the caffeine of a Sprite, but he lacks the disposable income on overpriced soda. That, and he’s left the bulk of tonight’s win stashed away at his apartment. “Water. Now fuck off.”

“I’m just here for your company.”

‘Your’, Levi notes, not ‘some’. Smooth.

“What, instead of the drunk jailbait here?”

Erwin orders a diet coke, and the bartender smiles at him, lowering her eyes, the sweep of her long lashes obvious. When she leaves, Erwin says, “I don’t look that old, do I?”

“Enough to be robbing the cradle.”

“Is that why you carry a knife around?”

Levi freezes, then realizes that his free hand’s been fingering the contour of his pocketknife. Shit. How long has he been doing that? He always carries it, and finds comfort in its weight and size. He flexes his hand and wills it to relax on his thigh.

“Fuck you. I’m not jailbait.”

He stares at Erwin, dissecting him as much as you can with the lights dazzling and streaking throughout the room. They don’t wash out Erwin’s eyes, their brightness uncanny and a contrast to Levi’s murky ones. Erwin says nothing about the scuff on his face or knuckles, but Levi knows he’s looked at them both.

“If you’re trying to put the moves on me, you’re wasting both our time,” Levi says, voice harder than before.

“Relax.”

Levi can’t ignore the way Erwin’s demand sounds firm and sure, like he’s use to giving orders. Use to them being obeyed.  “I’m not going to go at you,” he adds. He reaches out, and Levi jerks his wrist back before contact can be made.

“The hell you could,” Levi says. His wrist feels tingly as if it’d been touch all the same.

Erwin cocks a brow as if about to challenge that. Erwin’s big and not sporting a gut, but anyone could fill out a suit like that with enough pumping at the gym. That doesn’t mean you can actually take someone down in a fight.

Levi knows plenty about fights.

“Like I said,” Erwin continues, after indulging in his drink and rolling his right shoulder until it cracks, “I came for your company. I noticed you.”

Levi waits for the pervy elaboration to be tagged on that line. When it doesn’t, Levi tilts his head.

“So you just came up blindly? I could be crazy. People get killed for being a lot less.”

“Everyone starts off as a stranger before you get to know them.”

“And if I don’t swing that way?” Not that Levi plans to confirm that. He has been bogged down and restrained by labels most of his life that he doesn’t need to add another. A handsome face isn’t about to change that.

Erwin’s lip tilts around his glass. “Do you?”

Smartass. Levi grips his drink harder, deciding that doesn’t deserve an answer, and let Erwin make what he will of it.

As he ticks his eyes around Erwin’s shoulder to watch the entrance, he says, “Do you? You looking for some lower-income scum to take home?”

Erwin furrows his brows, then clicks his tongue. “Ah, actually, I’m here with business associates. They’re busy in a couple of those V.I.P. rooms.”

Levi doesn’t need him to detail what goes on behind those curtains. “And you’re looking for a partner to join them?”

“Not exactly. I’m ensuring they get to the hotel. They’re very drunk.”

Levi glances at Erwin’s non-alcoholic drink.

“Quite the knight in shining armor aren’t you?”

Erwin smiles. It’s not ugly or stained with the kind of pompousness of being born with a silver spoon in your mouth. Levi’s not sure that’s a good thing, but feels put off by it.

“Hardly,” Erwin says. He nods to the entrance. “Who are you waiting for?”

Levi tilts his head.

“You keep checking the entrance,” Erwin says.

Levi narrows his eyes at said entrance. “A brat.”

That has both of Erwin’s brows go up. “How old are you?” he asks, as if Levi’s choice in terminology has suddenly aged him.

“Old enough to be here legally.” Levi can’t help peek at Erwin and gauge his age. Older than him, he wagered, with good genes to give him such a sculpted jaw and cheekbones. Not that Levi is particularly noticing.

“You’re a cautious one.”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

Erwin shakes his head. “Not at all. I appreciate your keenness.”

“Who the fuck talks like that?”

“Well, I do, it seems.” Erwin’s lip tilts up just a tad, though it’s hard to make out in the perpetual shade of the club.

Levi snorts. “You’re in the wrong place then.”

“I admit I’m not a fan of these places,” Erwin says. “Neither do you, by the looks of it.”

“Is that what made you notice me?”

Erwin turns in his seat so that his knee almost brushes Levi’s. “It’s not the only thing.”

Levi’s leg doesn’t really want to move, so he pretends he doesn’t notice the proximity of their legs. “Ch’. Spare me.”

They quiet down as the bartender returns and asks if everything is alright. Levi rolls his eyes, and by the time she’s drifted away, Erwin’s noticed the gesture.

“Did you ‘notice’ her too?” Levi asks.

“What does that mean?”

Levi flicks his wrist toward the woman. “She’s practically creaming herself over you.”

“Rather crude way of putting it.”

Levi eyes him from the corner of his gaze. “And yet you’re still here. Or maybe you’re just too old to be moving around on those hips.”

“Not so old that I repulse you. You’re still here too.”

“I never said you didn’t repulse me. And I was here first.”

“Do I?”

Levi sneers. “Do you what?”

“Do I repulse you?” Erwin’s definitely got the sound of a smile laced to his words.

“You really don’t know when to shut up.”

Erwin looks at his drink. “I could say the same thing about you.”

Levi almost opens his mouth, tongue at the ready, but he catches himself.

He’s about to make a snide remark when he hears the aforementioned brat at last. Eren’s voice pierces through all the noise for an instant, in a different way than Erwin’s does.  Eren’s loud in a passionate kind of way, underlined with a not-quite-dormant ferocity. In fact, his voice was the impetus for their meeting; Levi all but bulldozed Eren’s front door down at an ungodly hour to demand some peace and quiet. Of course, now he’s less kicking the door down and using the key he was given almost a year ago.

Levi straightens until he spots Eren cluttered against all the bodies, grinning and talking to someone Levi can’t see well from this spot.

Erwin’s voice is able to demand a modicum of his attention. “Looks like you found him.”

Levi looks back at him. Blondie’s watching him, expectant, without pressure. It’s irritating.

“Yeah,” Levi says, abandoning his free drink at the counter. He decides to overlook that in the short time he was bantering with this stranger, his anger has receded. It renews upon seeing Eren, and Levi’s hopping off the stool.

A grip as firm as its owner’s voice stills him. It relaxes the moment Levi tenses and whips his head around.

Erwin lets go, but he’s got a little curl to the corner of his mouth, and Levi’s sure he sees something in his eyes. A hint of hunger.

Levi ignores the chill that tickles up his spine. He can’t be bothered to linger. It’s not like he was going to go home with the guy, or exchange numbers or anything stupid like that. He long since abandoned that scene.

Still, it was a break from the severity of Levi’s life, and maybe because he had a shit day and Erwin isn’t the worse looking man around, or whatever, Levi blurts back, “Levi.”

“What was that?”

Levi’s already putting his strength to use to carve his way through the crowds. He manages to shout back over his shoulder though: “My name, moron."

 **-x-**

“Come on...I was just going to hang out there for a little while. That’s all!”

Levi’s skilled at ignoring Eren as well as he is at navigating the filth and muck that is the city. He’d call himself a professional at it, but he’d have to be paid for that to happen, and given that he can’t even afford new gloves to endure the damn cold, he won’t bet on that happening anytime soon.

“Pick up the pace,” Levi says.

Behind him, Erwin treads a little faster. His face is still warped in an amalgamation of pouting and rage. The latter a product of both Levi having yanked him by the ear and, probably more so this part, learning that Mikasa was the tattle teller. Eren’s expression has only intensified since they walked his petrified friend, Armin, to his place in a decent-ish part of the city.

“Sorry,” Eren mutters.

Levi waits until he catches up to resume his stride. “Not sorry enough to not do it.”

“I...thought your fight was late.”

“A guy before me got knocked out fast. Mine got moved up.”

“Oh.” Eren shuffles a little closer, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Levi swears the kid needs a constant stress reliever ball, but then he will probably ruin it in a day’s time. “Was your fight good?”

It’s a stupid question, and Eren always asks ever since he found out what Levi does to keep from starving or living out in the cold. What he does to afford the hospital bills.

“I won,” is all Levi says.

He can feel Eren split into a smile. “That’s great! Well, I mean...of course you won. You’re amazing.”

Levi says nothing. By now he’s adjusted enough to Eren’s wide eyes and grins, and the way he jerks his gaze away when he realizes he’s ogling and praising Levi. He’s probably doing it now, but Levi doesn’t bother looking at him, tuning him out.

When they reach their apartment building without obstacles, Levi lets them in and mounts the steps with Eren, who knows better than to ask Levi to take the elevator.

“What the hell were you doing at a place like that anyway?” Levi finally asks.

“Nothing, really. Someone at school told me about it. We were just going to meet up there.”

“And what? Drink yourself into a stupor and either end up in a ditch or in jail?”

Eren huffs behind him, and his steps become noticeably louder. “Everyone at my school goes out to have a little fun. And I brought Armin so it’s not like I was alone.” A pause. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m sure Mikasa will appreciate that.”

Eren’s growling by the time they step through the corridor to their apartments. The floors beneath them creak, as they have for centuries no doubt, and it’s that or Eren’s grumbling-ranting that alerts Mikasa they’re back.

She pokes her head out of her and Eren’s place, then rushes out to meet them halfway.

Eren’s tense like an angry kitten. “I can’t believe you told him!”

“I never promised I wouldn’t,” Mikasa says. She barely acknowledges Levi before she’s looking Eren over, inspecting him.

Eren refutes her attention with a flail of his hands. “Knock it off! I’m fine.”

“I told you not to go. It’s not a safe area.” Mikasa follows him as a shadow would. “I would have come to get you but he said you might come back. Did you make Armin go?”

“More like you didn’t have an I.D. to get in,” Eren says, brushing past her with a hard sigh. “It’s not like we were going to do anything stupid.”

“You going there contradicts that.”

Their bickering isn’t news to Levi, so it’s easy for him to maneuver around them and toe open their door. The apartment really belongs to Eren’s father, but Levi has never actually seen the guy. Eren claims he’s always out on business of a doctoral sort, but it sounds like Eren only knows as much as his father allows him to know.

Levi’s never asks for more information. You don’t ask questions like that around here, and Levi doesn’t need to know more.

He narrows his eyes at the cobwebs clinging to the lamp hanging over the space that joins the kitchen with the living room. In the kitchen, he finds a couple of boxed goods and nothing edible in the fridge.

Levi sighs and shuts the fridge. His own fridge across the hall barely competes with this one’s bleakness.

Great.

The argument’s been moved to the living room, with Eren deflated on the couch like a brat and Mikasa settling next to his head. She’s not his sister by blood, and only Eren has referred to her as his kind-of sister, so ‘sister’ suits Levi fine for now.

“Hey,” he calls to them, less annoyed when they look at him, shutting up. “You have nothing in here to eat.”

“I was going to grab fast food on the way home,” Eren says, while Mikasa frowns.

Levi’s not sure where they get any money and has to assume their dad pays in advance or deposits them money in a bank--not consistently enough to set your watch to though. With both of the kids in school and with Eren’s temper and proclivity to headbutting, there’s little use in expecting them to make a living on their own.

“Stay put.” Levi makes for the door.

“Wait.” Eren’s looking at him over the couch. “Do you want something for that?”

It takes Levi a moment to realize he means his face. He shoos him off with a gesture and says, “It’s nothing. I’ll be back in a bit. Stay. Put. Mikasa?”

“I’ll be sure he won’t sneak off.”

Eren glares at her. “I’m not a kid, you know! You always-”

Levi shuts the door behind him before his head implodes. Then, without a respite, he takes the stairs back down two at a time. His headache hasn’t ebbed.

Outside, it’s the second time he’s slapped in the face by the cold. Those gloves he can’t afford sound pretty good about now. He ducks into himself, not too much, and power walks to the market five blocks away.

It’s a bit of chore getting there, given it’s a Friday night, which pumps up the youth and harried worker bees to find a bottle’s worth of burning for companionship. That, and/or a decent enough face to roll in bed with.

Levi stomps on the image of a handsome blonde before it can sneak up on him.

He takes what relief he can when he enters a moderately empty market. It’s always less crowded than the other one nearby, and the aisles make it easier to lug your basket around without bumping into someone else’s.

Levi adds ramen to his basket, uncooked chicken strips, and then finds himself loitering in the produce section. Compared to farmer market prices, these numbers make Levi stare at them, like enough mental will will lower their price. When it doesn’t, he manages to settle on a few greens that are cheap enough and bags them.

“Oh.”

It’s a soft exclamation from a deep voice that stops Levi in mid bag-twist. The universe has a way of fucking people over, especially those already fucked, but he still can’t stop the way his heart rate elevates when he confirms who is not ten feet away, palming a cucumber.

Erwin smiles. Without the club colors muting him out, he looks impossibly more good looking up close. Like he could be model material, but Levi doesn’t think that’s what he does.

“Levi. Fancy seeing you again.”

A voice like that makes his name sound valuable. Levi looks away, yanking the twist tie into place before placing it in the basket. He doesn’t even know why he feels so worked up.

“Yeah. Fancy.”

Of course Erwin pursues, standing next to him, vegetable forgotten. “Are you alright? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine.”

Erwin doesn’t look convinced, but doesn’t pursue the matter. “I take it you brought that boy home already?”

“Saw that scene, did you?” Of course Erwin saw it. Most the club did.

“He was pretty embarrassed and loud about it.”

Levi’s legs root him to the spot. He can go check out now, but isn’t about to let Erwin’s presence influence his plans to get some decent food home.

“Is he your…?”

Levi snorts. “What, son? Do I look old enough to have a fucking kid?”

“Considering you can have a kid as young as teenager, I’d say yes.”

“Smartass.” Levi almost bites his tongue at the lack of bite behind the insult.

Erwin chuckles that nice chuckle again.

“I’ve been told it’s better than being a dumbass.”

Levi quirks a brow at that.

“And what happened to getting your associates home safely?”

“They’re back at the hotel, sleeping it off.”

Levi narrows an eye at him and Erwin’s basket. It’s a cornucopia of healthy delights. Figures.

“Right,” Levi says.

Erwin follows his gaze to the food and shrugs. “The market’s not far from the hotel. I figured to pick up some things or else I wouldn’t be inclined to do it after I get home.”

So Erwin isn’t staying at a hotel? Levi shakes off the curiosity.

“No,” he answers. “He’s not my son.” He doesn’t want to supply more than that because he doesn’t have a name for what he is. The term ‘guardian’ hardly sounds appropriate and ‘friends’ sounds off in his head.

“We’re neighbors.”

“Ah.” Thankfully, Erwin doesn’t press for more answers. “Sounds like I’m not the only knight then, if you went to the trouble of taking him out of a place like that.”

Levi snorts and focuses on a fruit with a bright maroon peel. For all the cold he was feeling earlier, his right side is burning up from the heat Erwin emits. Levi picks up the fruit.

“It’s a pomegranate,” Erwin says.

Levi whips his head up at him. “I know what the fuck it is.”

“It’s one of my favorite fruits. Have you had it?”

Apparently the pause in response is enough for Erwin to assume (correctly) that Levi’s never had it before. When Levi doesn’t reply fast enough, Erwin looks like he’s restraining another one of those chuckles of his.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“If you're--”

“I like you. That’s all.”

Levi lowers the fruit. The man is blunt in a kind of conniving way. “Are you a masochist?”

“Not at all.”

Levi purposely ignores the way it’s said, how the baritone practically reaches his bones. “Then why are you still talking to me?”

“Maybe the same reason you haven’t walked away or come at me with that knife of yours.”

Bastard. Levi quells the urge to chuck the fruit at Erwin’s face.

“If you’re looking for an easy lay, go somewhere else.”

Erwin holds up one hand. “If I was looking for that, I’d be back at the club, not milling about the produce aisle.”

Fair point, but Levi doesn’t concede that to him verbally. He straightens, very aware that it makes no difference in shortening the height distance between them. Gesturing to the city beyond, he lets himself ask, “What are you doing in a place like this?”

“Besides shopping?” Erwin seems to pick up that Levi isn’t going to humor that with a response. “I went to a show with my associates earlier, and then they wanted to try a club.” He doesn’t detail why they didn’t hit a fancier joint.

“You live in the upper side at the least.” Levi gestures to his getup. “What show could you possibly want to see here?”

“You’d be surprised what you can find with a keen eye and some patience.”

Levi scoffs and snatches his basket. “I’ve lived here all my life, so I’ll enlighten you when I say no, there isn’t.”

“But I’ve already found something.”

Levi analyzes his gaze, then blinks when it doesn’t waver an iota off him. He almost cringes and instead rolls his eyes, turning away. He feels stuffy in his thin coat.

“I’m not even going to give you props for effort on that line,” Levi says, almost mutters.

“Levi.”

Damn himself for stopping, for glancing back.

Erwin has lowered his basket to fish into his coat. He pulls out a notepad that also looks expensive, glossy cover and all. A pen slips out of a side compartment and Erwin scribbles something down.

He rips the small paper out and extends it.

Levi eyes it like he’s worried what he’ll catch from it, or what danger lurks by opening the metaphorical door to accept it. He recognizes it’s a phone number.

For a reason he doesn’t know, his fingers itch to take it, if only to tear it up.

Levi ultimately lifts his gaze back on Erwin.

He snatches his basket and feels spent by the time he reaches the check-out line, passing a stiff ‘hello’’ when the clerk smiles too big for his liking at him. He pretends he doesn’t see Erwin coming to wait in line behind him.

Curiously enough, Erwin doesn’t speak to him while he checks out, which is good in that Levi’s headache isn’t any duller, and yet he suddenly feels listening to the man talk will be better than the incessant beep of his items being scanned.

Finally she’s done and Levi tugs out his wallet.

Shit.

Double shit and a triple one for the hell of it.

Levi refuses to groan and settles for clenching his jaw. He rubs each wrinkled bill, willing them to spit out more money. Throat feeling dry, he raises his head and opens his mouth to explain he’s left the bulk of his cash back home--

\--when a card is slipped into the girl’s hand.

“You can put his and mine altogether.” In that damn tone of his that has the girl accept his word as gospel and easily overlooking the shorter man beside him.

Levi keeps his voice to a hiss. “I don’t need your charity. I have the money.” Just not on his person right now.

“I don’t doubt that.” Erwin’s smile is sharper this time, that hunger a flicker in his gaze for the moment he glances down at Levi.

The girl’s already done charging Erwin’s card and another worker has the bags separated. Levi sort of stands there, boggled by the chain of events and the sudden slip in control.

His bags are offered and Levi can only take them or look stupid otherwise holding up the line. In the time it takes to step outside, Levi hasn’t worked out anything to say that can encompass the ‘what-the-fuck’ feeling stuck on a loop.

“Here.”

Erwin’s hand slips into his and presses, then retreats as quick as it came. Levi gathers his wits to glare up at Erwin, and thinks he’ll go get some cash from the apartment and throw the money at Erwin’s clean shoes and curse him out, maybe mess up his stupid hair or pop a button off his coat--

But Erwin’s already heading away.

For a heartbeat, Levi can’t believe the audacity.

“Hey!”

Erwin doesn’t stop, only glances back over his shoulder, smiling again.

“Something tells me you don’t like owing favors,” he says.

Levi’s phone buzzes, distracting him from the chase he almost gives. He curses and fishes it out awkwardly with bag still in hand. A text from Eren.

**u almost here?**

**Starving.**

Another text.

**Sorry I snuck out.**

Levi looks up and Erwin’s already gone. Clenching his other hand, he now feels what Erwin left behind in his palm.

His phone number.

**-x-**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! In terms of layout, I have most of the chapters worked out , and a couple are already written out, but not everything is set in stone. This is a Levi-centric tale with Erwin, but it will also touch on his interaction with other characters too.
> 
> I'm indulging a few kinks too, but each chapter will have any proper warnings I can think of.
> 
> I also fail at short chapters and really love dialogue + am a sucker for some domesticy stuff as well as angst. Sorry if that's not your thing!
> 
> Thanks again for sticking through to the end of the chapter! Hope it was enjoyed ♥


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's most definitely not a date.

 

It’s been almost three hours, and Levi hasn’t managed to exert all his frustration into the punching bag. That makes it just about ten hours since he got that damn piece of paper that’s crumbled in his jacket’s pocket, and fifteen seconds since he’s thought about it last.

Another punch, two more kicks, and Levi steps back to breathe deeply. He’s dripping sweat and beginning to feel the ache in his muscles, the sharp sting of his healing knuckles.

“Looks like you could use a drink.”

Levi turns his head to find Petra holding up a sports drink with that soft smile she often has. It’s her humble gym he gets to use at odd hours, if only in part because she does so too from the few months he’s known her. Besides them, there’s one other person in the back on a treadmill.

Petra tosses him the drink when Levi opens his palm for it. After a swig and a glance at his bag, he decides to sit down at a bench.

“Here.” Petra is next to him now, offering fresh wraps for his hand and bandages. “Um. Youre…”

Levi glances down at the rouge color smearing the underside of his wrapped hands. His skin most have opened up again from the over-exertion. Petra doesn’t ask about them, never has asked about his injuries though he can tell she’s tempted to. She seems to restrain herself a lot around him.

“Thanks,” he says, taking them.

“Bad night?”

“Is there ever a good one?”

Petra chuckles, but it’s weaker than her usual ones. “Well, mine wasn’t so great. My dad and I got into a small argument again last night.”

“The same thing?” Levi’s never questioned himself for letting Petra talk about her life. It seems to make her happy, and she’s never been bad to him, expected something from him, so sometimes he listens to her in between beating the crap out of inanimate objects.

“Yeah.” She sighs and sits beside him, sneaking peeks as he wipes off with a towel before tending to his hands. “He wants me to sell the place, but at the same time wants to support me. I know he rather I find someone to settle down with, be taken care of.”

“More like be a kept pet.”

“Not like that...”

Levi grunts, then looks at his bag again where Erwin’s number has yet to be tossed out. Who knows how many opportunities Levi has had to do just that, and each time that deep voice echoed in his mind, reminding him that, no, he doesn’t like owing favors.

Petra’s voice pulls his attention away from the bag. “Is there something on your mind?” she asks.

“Does it seem like there is?” Levi focuses back on his hands.

“A bit.” She stays silent a moment before adding, “You can always tell me. If you ever want to. I’ll listen.”

Levi can’t offer anything more than an acknowledging nod. He gathers his items and tucks them in his bag. From there, he bypasses his jacket and pulls out a small envelope, which he hands to Petra. One good thing about his line of work is the instant cash upon his success. Of course it’s only as good if you keep it on you and not left in your apartment like an idiot.

“For the next couple of months.”

Petra stares at the envelope, her hand hesitating before she accepts his payment. Maybe she knows even if she was ever foolish enough to let him use her gym for a cheaper rate, or free, he won’t tolerate it.

“Alright.” She doesn’t count the money to confirm it’s all there. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah.” As he tugs out his jacket, he hears the crinkle from her gripping the envelope tighter.

“To the hospital?”

Levi stops to face her. Instantly, Petra tenses and bites her lower lip. Her expression has sharpened with determination though, and she presses forward with, “I saw you go a couple of times in the mornings. I...live nearby it.”

Her voice has tapered off quietly, gaze dropping to Levi’s bruised hands. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

For several heartbeats, Levi just watches her. Then he hoists up his bag and grabs the drink she provided him.

Just before he leaves, he says, “Thanks for the drink. I’ll see you tomorrow, Petra.”

“Ah,” she makes a sound as if to say more, then stops. She nods, smiles “See you, Levi.”

Levi walks home in a brisk pace, bag at his hip, hands in the pockets of his jacket. More than once, his fingers fiddle with the paper. Its weightless, and a heavy presence all the same, taking away the edge of Petra’s question about his hospital visits. His mind feels just as heavy with too many thoughts, all revolving around one particular blonde. One encounter shouldn’t mess anyone up this much.

In his building, the couple three doors down is arguing again and Eren’s quiet place is testament to how long teens could sleep in on weekends. A siren wails not far off, and someone upstairs is already pumping out some rock ballad from the 80s.

A typical Saturday morning, and yet it feels nothing like it.

By the time Levi’s in the shower and soaked to the bone, the mental clarity he has hoped for doesn’t make him feel any better. It’s not until after he’s in fresh clothes and has his protein shake does he snatch the paper out and send Erwin the damn text the bastard’s probably been waiting for.

**I have your money.**

It takes him a couple of tries to push the send button. When he does, he sets his phone down and gulps down his shake, a towel pooled around his neck to collect the loose drops from the shower.

Hardly a minute passes when he’s received a reply.

**Good morning.**

**Good to hear from you.**

**How are you?**

Levi sends his reply back:

**Dandy. I have time now.**

Erwin:

**I’m also available.**

**I’d like to see you.**

Levi’s chest does a funny fluttering thing. It means nothing.

Erwin texts him again before Levi manages a reply to the last one.

**Brunch would be nice.**

**Where to?**

Erwin’s given Levi the power to decide the place. Levi doesn't let that fact get to him as he thumbs a reply and pushes his phone out of arm’s reach before he changes his mind.

**-x-**

_It’s not like this is a date._

Levi doesn’t let the fact that Erwin’s going to enter the cafe at any moment spoil the taste of his tea. It’s black with a hint of milk, so its potency spreads a familiar warmth through him as he tries to, once again, not think over that he’s really here waiting for Erwin.

Saturdays are notorious for nursing hangovers and oversleeping, so the shop’s quiet, and Levi’s in a spot that allows him view of the entire place. The tea’s decent too, imported stuff that’s worth the price. He comes here often enough that the owner has already placed a pastry to compliment the tea for him, at no extra charge.

He picks at it, but lacks the appetite to indulge in its sweetness. His foot taps the hardwood floor when he’s not taking a sip of his drink, and as the more he glances at the leaf-shaped clock mounted on the opposite wall, the more his heart speeds up.

He isn’t about to admit he’s out of his element. While his life’s far from great, there’s a control that’s taken him years of cultivating so that in the event of a surprise, he’s still prepared.

Yet here he sits, feeling anything but.

“Are you waiting for someone?” It’s the owner, and she’s brought a pot to refill his cup.

Levi accepts the offer, reluctant to answer.

“You could say that.”

Wrinkles crack around her eyes as she smiles and says, “That’s nice. Very nice.”

She leaves, and Levi rubs his temple.

 _It’s not a date_.

The windchimes dangling over the door sound as a patron enters. Levi lowers his tea just as Erwin spots him and strides toward him with a smile. He’s clad in what Levi dubs as business casual, with a fine coat folded over his left forearm. This winter’s chill is an especially tenacious one and Erwin doesn’t look the slightest ruffled by it. He looks stunning.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Erwin says, not wasting time to sit across Levi in the small booth.

“Thought I was going to stand you up?”

“No.”

Levi half-concentrates on his tea while the owner comes over. She’s smiling wider than usual, but Levi makes a point to ignore it while she takes Erwin’s order. Coffee and half a sandwich, on multi-grain bread and without cheese. Levi doesn’t doubt a decent diet is what keeps Erwin looking like he could lift him with one hand easily.

Not that he thinks about that.

When she leaves, only after sharing her smile at Levi, does Erwin thread his fingers together on the table.

“So, how was your morning?”

Levi stares at him.

“Your face is healing nicely,” Erwin adds.

Levi doesn’t like how keen Erwin is, and yet probably would dislike him more if he wasn’t. Most people aren’t aware of shit, their eyes jumping from person to item, a random collection of data they don’t know what to do with. Erwin, however, scans the way Levi picks up his cup in an unorthodox manner, studies him like he’s some kind of creature, sizing him up.

“Body’s tend to do that. Heal themselves,” Levi says.

“It’s a good thing they do, but not everyone’s heals so well.” Erwin breaks eye contact with Levi to accept his coffee and offer his thanks for it. Levi watches as he adds nothing to it before taking a tentative sip. “Mm. It’s good.”

“It’s not a shit coffee place.”

“You like this place then.”

Levi can’t believe he’s actually talking to this guy. “I don’t hate it.”

Erwin sets his cup down. “Do you hate me?”

“Jesus fuck, what is it with you? It’s not like we’re pals or anything. I agreed to meet you because your arrogant ass paid for my groceries.”

“I wasn’t trying to be arrogant.”

“Then you were looking for an edge to blackmail me.”

Erwin smiles like there’s a laugh on the cusp of his lips. “You didn’t have to come.”

Levi scowls and reaches for his wallet. “How else am I going to pay you back the money?”

Erwin’s grip is on his wrist faster than Levi appreciates. He’s tense under the sudden influx of heat, both on his skin and from Erwin’s gaze. Levi has enough wit to tug his wrist free, but Erwin’s strength surpasses his speed.

“I don’t want your money,” Erwin says.

Levi’s extremely aware of the way the other man has leaned forward, the texture of his massive palm. It’s caked with the texture of someone who used them, and not from only handling money and fine silverware. “Then why give me your number?”

Erwin removes his hand and settles back. “Brunch is a nice start.”

Silence settles on them, punctuated by the shuffle of the owner and clatter of the plate as she serves Erwin his sandwich. She asks them for anything else, to which Levi denies and still ignores the way she’s looking at him like it’s nice he’s not here by himself for once.

“You just wanted a date,” Levi says.

“If having your company and talking constitutes a date, then alright.”

“I didn’t say it did.”

Erwin is the type who doesn’t talk while he chews, so Levi finishes his tea and stews in his own bewilderment while the guy swallows. His hands, up close, Levi notices they’re not smooth as the shroud of a club made them out to be. They’re maintained though.

“I haven’t been on a date in a long time,” Erwin says.

Levi blinks at him. “Fuck, didn’t I just say it wasn’t--”

“How about you?”

Levi’s eyes widened just a tad, thrown off kilter by the question and the genuine curiosity behind it. He looks down at his saucer, focusing on the faint gold pattern twisting around its lip.

“I don’t date.”

“Ah.”

Erwin’s taking another bite, and Levi doesn't know whether he’s irritated or perplexed. He boldly drags his eyes over the other man, assessing his hair, his clothing. Immaculate, it’s the word Levi thinks fits this guy.

Levi sets his cup down and leans forward. “How did you know I had a knife?”

Erwin doesn’t ask for his memory to be refreshed. Good. “I had the same habit for a while when I was honorably discharged from the military.”

“You were in the military.”

“You say it like you don’t believe me.”

No, Levi does. There’s a posture that some might mistake as being a side effect of being an elitist, but there was a difference between having your head up your ass and engaging your entire being to stand at attention. Though there’s this way Erwin shifts his right side periodically, like a crick he can't fix. Injury?

“I believe you,” Levi finallys says. “Are you also really not an old man?

“I’m glad you believe me.” He sounds genuine. “I’m not old, though compared to you, I might seem so.”

“I doubt you’re much older than I am.”

Erwin quirks a brow. “Really now?”

“You aren’t the first to think I’m jailbait.”

“It’s not just because you’re on the shorter side.”

Levi narrows his eyes, expecting a sleazy remark on his good skin, which is bullshit unless you considered the bitter, exhausted-with-the-world look bang-worthy.

But Erwin says nothing further on the matter. Instead, he says something that reaffirms that he’s much more than Levi expects him to be.

“You don’t fight like an older fighter.”

For a while, there’s the sound of the soft bubbling of coffee and perpetual clinking of the kitchen behind them, and of the muffled noises of the city outside. Levi’s pulse starts to pick up, adrenaline making him very aware of the knife by Erwin’s plate.

“You a cop?” he asks in a hiss.

Erwin’s pauses in eating and is leveling Levi with a look that borderlines curiosity. He keeps his hands in plain sight and says, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw your fight the night we met. I’ve never seen a fighter like you.”

Levi’s attention darts to the exit before looking back at Erwin, who is back to eating.

“How the fuck did you get to an underground fight?”

“I went looking for one. Me and my associates, actually.”

Levi frowns.

“I want to discuss recruiting you,” Erwin says.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You don’t seem the kind to need repeating.”

There’s nothing to retort with for that. Levi’s mind is filtering out various scenarios, ludicrous or not, while dissecting Erwin for anything that gives his gut the pull it needs to high-tail on out of there.

Gradually, Levi shifts his position, muscles ready to be put to work.

He may regret it, but he asks, “What do you mean?”

Erwin’s smile looks triumphant. Then, the bastard just resumes eating like he hasn’t said anything to pique Levi’s interest.

“Hey, I’m _talking_ to you.”

“I don’t want to put this good food to waste,” Erwin says, successful in taking big bites out of the meal. Levi ogles him like he can’t be real. He can’t even feel a modicum of disgust; even Erwin’s eating is immaculate for the most part.

“How is your brat doing?” Erwin finally asks.

Levi’s brows furrow. “Huh?”

“The boy from the club.”

For an instant, Levi thinks better than to answer, but then suspects Erwin won’t tell him what he wants otherwise.“Fine enough. Still a brat. Why?”

“Does that mean you’re available for a bit?”

“For what?”

Erwin finishes his sandwich, and Levi has caught himself at least twice looking at the shape of his mouth. It’s been a while since he’s allowed himself to do such a thing, and even now throws the image aside once it reappears in his ming.

Without preamble or further explanation, Erwin leaves an amount of money that could cover twice what he (and Levi) ordered, gets up, and heads for the door.

Levi isn’t sure if he’s more surprised by the money left or the fact that his own ass slips out of the booth and goes after Erwin.

Outside, he shivers and ducks into his jacket. It’s better used for training in the cold than a natural deterrent against the weather. But it’s clean and you never know when you’ll need to break out into a run. A big coat will drag you down.

Erwin tugs on a pair of gloves and positions himself so that his girth blocks the breeze carrying the cold air.

“So are we just going to freeze our asses off? Don’t you have a six-figure-seven-days-a-week job to get to?”

“Don’t you?”

“Asshole.”

Erwin looks amused as he takes off down the street, and Levi utilizes long strides to keep up. It proves to be an effort. With Erwin’s shoulders paving the way, the path to wherever the hell they’re going is a smooth one at least. Erwin doesn’t talk, and Levi suspects the man might be fond of action over words.

Maybe they have something in common after all.

Just before Levi’s about to kick Erwin and/or verbally chew him out for taking so long, Erwin ducks under an awning fixed to a squat building. They’ve walked too many blocks, enough that they have breached the perimeter of one of the nicer parts of the city. Cracks have set into the building, but it’s polished and not hunched over from neglect.

“Mike’s Gym?” Levi reads the sign. Could it be anymore generic?

Erwin only holds the door open for him in answer.

After a beat, Levi enters, and feels the familiar coolness of a central air system. Another familiarity greeted him in sight and sound. There's the noise of blows striking padding and members at different areas in the gym, each of them chiseled through the discipline of training. A couple of roped cages have been constructed toward the center of the room.

The gym itself is wide and expansive, awash with reds, blues, blacks from mats to punching bags to the blur of gloves as men strike at targets. Levi stares at it all with the same expression as before he came in, unimpressed despite it being the nicest gym he’ll probably ever see.

“Erwin.”

Levi shifts his attention to a tall man that greets Erwin. He’s less blonde, sporting a goatee and a nose made for sniffing. He nods to Erwin in acknowledgment and looks at Levi, arms crossed. The way he appraises him makes Levi ache to kick him.

“What are you looking at?” Levi says.

“Levi,” Erwin says, not sounding displeased with Levi’s lack of courtesy, “this is Mike.”

“And this is the gym to go with the name,” Levi says, not pleased but definitely less irritated when Mike’s eyes narrow and he smirks.

“Looks like you picked him out of the wild.”

Levi bristles.

“Mike,” Erwin cuts in, “helps train fighters and provides the means for other trainers to do the same. We’ve known each other a long time, but he’s been in the business longer than me.” He gestures with his hand to refer to those occupying the gym.

He says it like it’s supposed to mean something. It does, to an extent that Levi conjures up an image of a cage with two monkeys grappling at each other for other people’s entertainments. Since Levi is not stupid, he manages to bridge Erwin’s intentions with his earlier words.

Yet before Levi can spit out how ridiculous all of this is, Erwin’s voice eclipses the start of his protests.

“If you don’t mind,” he says to Mike, who must know Erwin long enough to hear the rest of the question. With a final look at Levi, Mike shrugs one shoulder then jerks his head toward the back.

“Feel free, but mind him.” Mike points to Levi.

Erwin leads Levi away before the inevitable fight can erupt between the two. He hugs the perimeter of the gym as they leave Mike to his business, but Levi casts him a glower for good measure anyway. Erwin's pace is slower as if wanting Levi to soak in the atmosphere. A few fighters and what must be their trainers glance their way, but those occupied at targets or on a machine don’t break away from their regime.

“Where are we going?” Levi asks, because he hasn’t soaked in the atmosphere. In fact, all of this feels like a waste of time, like they could be doing something better.

“Almost there.” Erwin doesn’t elaborate, and Levi isn’t sure if he’s more frustrated at himself for following him. He kept his pace a certain length from Erwin’s just in case.

Once they’ve gone through a back entrance, Erwin takes him down a flight of stairs that end in another door. This one, he opens with a tilt to his lips. He leaves the door open, expecting Levi to enter first.

Levi peeks in, then does.

There’s a cage like one upstairs in the gym down several rows of seats. It’s a small arena, and empty save for two men ready to go at it in the center. The lighting hits the cage and not much else, so Levi can’t tell how many other people, if any, are dotting the seats, observing.

Erwin steps into an aisle of one of the rows, and sits. Levi

The seats are supple enough and dwarf Levi, especially when he’s sitting next to Erwin who fills his seat well. He’s got proper posture, spine erect, while Levi splays back in his seat, peering down at the cage.

He’s vaguely aware of the heat from Erwin’s pants touching his knee.

“There they go," Erwin says.

Levi glances at Erwin just enough to catch the anticipation flickering in his face.

It’s a funny kind of fight to watch, not at all what Levi’s endured to stay alive, to pay bills. There’s a lot of dancing around, checking the opponent with kicks, then an explosion of what a novice would see as arm flailing followed by mindless grappling.

“Are you watching?” Erwin asks, without taking his eyes off the training.

Of course Levi is watching, so he takes it to mean is if he’s paying attention. He is, at least to the extent he can recognize patterns in how one opponent favors his left (an old injury maybe? habit?), and the other has incredibly leg power and tries to employ it as often as he can.

For all the hype attached to the sport, there’s got to be more to it than that.

“Looks stupid,” Levi says.

Erwin looks at him again. Levi makes it a point to not look back.

“Why is that?” Erwin asks. His knee feels a millimeter closer than it was.

“They’re no better than pets performing for a circus.”

“I thought you might say that.” Erwin reaches into his pocket and presents two tickets. A quick glance confirms they’re for a fight. Tonight.

At Levi’s unspoken question, Erwin says, “There’s something a training session just can’t capture.”

Levi wonders about when Erwin got the tickets. “You want to take me to a real fight?”

“Yes.”

“Tonight.”

“Yes. Are you busy?”

Levi snorts and doesn’t reach out for either of the stubs. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What’s to kid about?”

“You just met me last night at a club, pay for my shit, and now instead of taking my money for it you want me to see a fight?”

Erwin’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Yes.”

Levi narrows an eye at him. “All because you saw me at some shitty underground fight?”

“That’s part of it.”

Levi stares back hard. Erwin’s probably the first who has stared back with an equal intensity that isn’t just challenging. It’s confident, and something else Levi isn't sure he can label.

“You’re fucking with me,” Levi says.

“Not yet.”

At Levi’s eye twitch, Erwin chuckles, and doesn’t apologize for the comment. If anything, he looks even more assured as he tucks the tickets back into his jacket.

“Pervert. Are you flirting with me or seducing me to be a fighting monkey?”

Erwin’s smile is enigmatic. Levi thinks that’s its default state. “The fight’s at nine. I can meet you outside the cafe again and we can take a cab to it.”

“I could just take the damn cab by myself and meet you at the event.” Levi’s eyes sneak down to Erwin’s leg. It’s moved away, only slightly.

“So you’ll come.”

Levi darts his attention back on Erwin’s face and clenches one fist.

“Are you going deaf at your age? I didn’t say that.”

“I’ll meet you at the allotted time.” Erwin’s adjusting himself to get up like Levi hasn’t rejected his offer.

“Hey,” Levi kicks his shoe against the side of Erwin’s. “What makes you so fucking sure I’m going to go along with this?”

Erwin’s leg is a sudden pressure against his own, the susurrus of the fabric brushing Levi’s jeans deafening even with the smacks and grunts of the fight below. There’s the rush of Erwin’s presence, his scent which is underlined with some kind of spice-smelling soap and no nasty cologne to obscure the way it tickles Levi’s nose.

Erwin has leaned over, his left arm stretched out behind Levi’s seat, barely touching the back of his neck. When he speaks, his breath ghosts his ear.

“Because I paid for brunch.”

He’s leaving before Levi’s gathered what it takes to recognize he hadn’t leaned away from the man, leaving before Levi realizes the heat isn’t residue from Erwin but of his own flushed skin.

When Levi finally shoves out of his seat and enters the gym again, Erwin is shrugging the right side of his coat on carefully. He's talking to Mike again.

“Hey.” Levi marches up to him and snatches the lapel of his coat, the texture thick and proof of its high quality. Erwin blinks down at him but doesn’t jerk back, though he’s gone a little tense.

Ignoring the looks being cast their way, Levi lowers his tone so only Erwin hears.

“Eight o’clock. You’re paying for the cab.”

With that, he lets go and is relieved when Erwin doesn’t follow him.

It isn’t until he’s a block from his place that he wonders what the hell he’s getting into.

**-x-**

Eren knocks on his door a quarter ‘til eight. Answering it is the only way to ensure the punk doesn’t rush to drastic conclusions or continue further, incessant knocking that disrupts the flow of Levi’s quiet. Not that his mind has been quiet since he got home, and he may have opened the door with more agitation than necessary.

Smiling, Eren holds out a plastic bag. “We went to Japantown and I found some of those loose leaf flavors you like. The ones with brown rice. I figured that was better than a Godzilla figure I saw. But now I really want to see the new one that just came out on DVD.”

Levi endures the ramble well as he inspects the bag's contents. Not bad. The kid has an ability to learn quick if he only applied it more often.

“You should be saving your money.” He watches Eren duck into himself. Levi almost sighs. Instead, he takes the bag. “Come in. I’ll make you a batch.”

Eren beams and enters, closing the door behind him as Levi takes to the kitchen. His nose wrinkles and he looks at the open window.

“Cleaning day?”

“Just the kitchen,” Levi says. Scrubbing the stove had taken off the edge to whatever it was that left him jittery after he’d left Erwin. “If you can tell the difference, try cleaning your sorry excuse for one someday.”

“It’s not that dirty.”

“It’s filthy.”

“Do you need help cleaning anything else?”

Levi has a pot of hot water ready that he goes for to prepare their drinks. “No. I’m leaving soon.”

“Oh.” If Levi looks, he bets Eren’s ears will be drooping. “Another fight? So soon?”

“If it was, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“I won’t follow, promise!”

Levi passes him a cup. “It’s not a fight. Unbunch your panties.”

“What?"

“It’s an expression.”

Eren mumbles into his cup, blows at it, then sips. He only drinks tea at Levi’s, but treats it like it’s a dining experience each time. After a sip he licks his lips, and nods as if he can tell this is good tea.

“So then where are you going then?”

“Always with the questions.”

Eren frowns and lowers his eyes. “Sorry.”

Levi exhales softly before taking a sip. It’s the right blend he likes.

“Where’s Mikasa?” Levi asks.

“Starting dinner. Dad sent some money so we got steak. Want some?”

Levi sneaks a peek at the black and white clock mounted on the left wall. “No. I’m leaving in ten.”

Eren leans forward. “With someone?”

No wonder Eren has a proclivity toward trouble. The damn kid absolutely lacks a filter. Paired with a temper, it’s a miracle Eren’s alive and has all his limbs and both eyes.

“You talk too much.”

“You are, aren’t you?” Eren’s voice sounds harder. “With who?”

“Not your fucking business, that’s who.”

“Was it that guy from the club?”

Levi looks at him with a fierce enough gaze that Eren straightens. “What?”

“I mean,” he averts his gaze and scratches his cheek, “Armin noticed him talking to you. I think he was trying to tell me you were there but I wasn't paying attention. He told me about it later. You know, after you dragged us out in front of everyone.”

Meak as that Armin kid is, Levi can’t deny his astuteness, which was now awarding him with a thorn in his side.

“Then you’re both fucking stupid,” Levi says.

He sets the pot back and swipes the counter twice with a towel before folding it against the lip of the sink. He can feel Eren practically vibrating with the need to know, but the kid's biting his tongue.

Levi comes around to face him. Eren flinches like he’s about to get a scolding, or maybe a punch. Raising his arm, Levi reaches up and flicks him in the forehead.

“Finish your tea and go help your kind-of sister. Eat a steak on my behalf.”

Eren’s urge to protest is obvious on his face, the way he grips the cup a little harder. The brat isn’t able to not know things, even if they’re trivial. It’s how he found out about Levi’s fighting; he’d boldly stalked him one night after several rejections from Levi.

Still, Eren’s not a bad kid, and he obeys Levi by downing the drink in a few gulps, burnt tongue and all. It’s not the first time Levi’s seen him stuff high temperatures into his mouth. Eren even gets up and washes his own cup before he treads back over to his place.

Before he reaches his door, Levi calls out to him.

“What was that movie you wanted to see again?”

Eren hesitates, taken aback by the sudden question. “Um, the new Godzilla one.”

“I’ll pick it up on the way home.”

Levi shuts his door before he can see the grin on the brat’s face.

**-x-**

It’s a convenient fact that Levi doesn't own anything fancy and that the night’s activities don’t expect it of him. Still, he will never admit he stared seconds longer than necessary when deciding on a shirt, and if he ever did, he will say it was in consideration for the thickness of it.

He leaves his place on time and though he’s tempted to make Erwin wait, he’s got a thing for punctuality. Even back when he dealt in uglier means of making money, he was always on time and expected the same of his associates. Anything else would be a waste of his time. Those punks that abuse time to intensify the anticipation for a coming warning, or a beat-down, are no better than cowards.

Outside, it’s gone even colder and the Friday night crowd from last night feels matched by the Saturday night partiers. Troublemakers are thriving now, so Levi doesn't linger and forces his head high enough so those who might think little of his stature from afar can see his expression and be less inclined to fuck with him.

He keeps his hands in fists in his pockets when he starts feeling antsy.

When he rounds the last corner, he can see Erwin already waiting. His height and halo of hair make him easy to spot out. The kind of guy Levi would have pick-pocketed without a doubt.

Slowing his pace, Levi approaches, taking note how Erwin seems to sense his presence and catches his gaze.

“Good evening,” Erwin says. The guy’s got the audacity to have changed into something less stifling, but still just as good looking. Then Levi remembers he changed his clothes as well.

Levi barely nods his head and tries to not to shift around to stay warm.

“So,” Erwin’s left arm raises, easily hailing a cab, “shall we?”

Levi's not surprised that Erwin can pick up a cab in the blink of an eye. “You’re still paying for it.”

“I thought you didn't like me paying for your stuff.”

Erwin holds the door open for him, and it seems stupid to argue about who gets to get in first, so Levi slides in as far as he can go. “You’re paying me back for being an annoying fuck,” he says.

“Ah.”

Erwin takes the opposite end of the cab, allowing the middle space to remained unoccupied. He orders the driver where to go, a street Levi knows is in the upper side. At least it isn't an obscure address that confirms he was driving himself into danger.

Sitting in the cab with Erwin is weird. The air feels stultified but Levi refuses to touch the handle to roll down the window, disgusted. It’s better than taking a bus, but not by much. Levi shifts, looking out the window and all too aware of the lack of cleanliness and Erwin’s attention on him.

The cab rolls by the hospital. Levi watches it pass by, eyes fixed on the seventh floor, three windows from the right side. He brushes off Petra's words from this morning and turns his head toward Erwin.

“You said you were in the military. What part?”

“Special ops.”

Levi lowers his eyes to Erwin’s right arm.

“That have something to do with your discharge?”

He’s pleased that Erwin shows a modicum of interest at Levi’s assumption. Carefully, Erwin rubs his arm. “It does. I spent a few months in rehab.”

Levi notes the way Erwin squeezes his arm before settling his hand back down on his thigh. It’s left at that. For now.

It’s a delayed ride because of traffic, and it’s filled with the honks of other cars and, mostly, the richness of Erwin’s voice. He steers the topic onto the fight, what to expect in terms of duration and the names of the fighters they’re watching tonight. He even details their training background and which one is the fan favorite.

Levi listens for the most part, but he’s grateful to bolt out of the cab when it comes to a stop, dusting himself off of the grime that comes from sitting in such an abomination. On the sidewalk, it’s easy to tell which building houses the arena. People are filed in line, filtering into it.

Erwin doesn’t take him to the back of the line. Instead, he guides Levi around another entrance with a brute of a man blocking its entrance. He nods to Erwin and lets him and Levi in.

“I take it you’re some kind of famous to get V.I.P. attention,” Levi says. They’re in a moderately empty hallway, heading toward another door. Levi feels the vibrations from the arena’s zeal as people settle in and wait.

“Not in particular. Anyone who works for the industry doesn't have to use the main entrance. Some do, but they came in much earlier.”

“So this is what you do? Take guys off the street and bring them to a fancy arena?”

Erwin looks back at him. “Just you.”

Levi mutters to himself. The door’s held open for him to what he sees is a private seating area flanked by workers who check tickets and identification. The ventilation's decent in here, but it doesn't make it any less loud.

There’s a woman with a laptop opened to a blog sitting there already, so Levi takes the spots farthest away, so that she’s not in front of him. Even with stadium seating, his height stunts his ability to see the cage with a head in the way.

At last, they’re sitting, and Levi still feels like this is pointless. He scowls at the way people can’t keep their voices to a respectable level.

“You didn't answer me,” he says, louder so Erwin can hear him. The man’s right next to him, and the seats feel somehow smaller than the one at Mike’s place.

“About?”

“What you do. Is this your job?”

Erwin nods at him. “I work for a company that’s dedicated to the sport. Recruiting, training, promoting. We represent elite fighters.”

“Training and promoting?”

“Yes, for each fighter."

Levi doesn't like the idea that he’s just another body to fill in a quota. He crosses his leg and sneers over at Erwin.

The taller man gazes down at him, then leans back as though solving a riddle. “Ah. I've never actually recruited a fighter for myself to train.”

“Is that supposed to flatter me?”

“Maybe. I've mostly done office work, scouting, helping others in our organization find fighters.”

Levi looks away. “You mean commodities.”

Erwin doesn't say anything to that, and Levi wonders if he’s pissed off. He kind of hopes he is because it looks like Erwin can tolerate a few kinks in his control. Now with the tidbit of Erwin having been in the military, Levi lets his mind wander to just how much authority Erwin’s adjusted to.

“Jesus, can they shut the fuck up?” Levi’s thinking is perpetually stalled by the fans’ excitement before the fight’s even started. They’re practically screaming when the fighters are released from whatever cage they have been before being put into a public one.

“Watch,” Erwin says.

Levi bites his tongue at the order. He watches.

At first it’s easy to assume Erwin’s talk about what a practice session lacks is nothing more than a cacophony of every kind of voice rooting for their preferred fighter. Levi sags deeper into his seat as the fighters stand off one another, hopping around, gauging.

Then, and Levi isn't sure when it happens, but the fighters' intensity changes. Their energy differs from the two Levi saw earlier in the day; the concentration fiercer, even from Levi’s vantage point. Despite himself, he scoots forward.

“There’s just as much instinct to survive here than out there,” Erwin is saying. His mouth is close, a dispersed heat against Levi’s neck and ear. “It’s about them two. They've tuned out the crowd.”

Have they? Levi breaks his attention to the audience.

“People like to see other people hurt. No better than gladiator fights," Levi says.

“You’re wrong.”

Levi jerks his head to challenge Erwin, but its disrupted upon realizing how close Erwin’s face is. The man’s not looking at him though, but at the people cheering in the arena.

“It’s not a bloodbath they want. They’re putting their hopes, whether they realize it or not, on one man.”

Sounds pathetic. Yet the longer Levi observes them, the more difficult to prove Erwin wrong. These people know nothing about these fighters, and what they know is surely fed. Levi can’t imagine any scandals being leaked if this sport is as lucrative as Erwin makes it look. Here they are all the same, invigorated at the hope of a man’s survival in the cage, like good things can happen because of one man’s win.

Within the cage, one fighter is struggling. Levi feels Erwin’s breath near him, feels their knees brushing again. He remains still, staring at the fight, knowing he would have swept the other guy’s legs out from him by now. Missed opportunity. They may have turned off the audience' clamor, but when it's over, the winner will bask in it.

Levi doesn’t know how long it lasts, but it’s over when the one that was hobbling wins. The fan favorite. The arena is drowned in revelry, those who lost with their fighter forgotten in the wake of a win.

He and Erwin stay even as the audience filters out back into the cold, the fighters gone, their nights off to end in very different ways. The woman with the promoting blog and her associates leave, and soon it's just them with a cleaning crew to arrive shortly.

Levi isn’t sure why he feels a little breathless.

He looks over and Erwin’s waiting, patiently.

“It’s still stupid,” Levi says. 

“You still think it’s a couple of monkeys fighting for entertainment?”

“It still is,” Levi says, firmly. “These people don’t know what a fight really means, what it takes.”

Erwin looks back at the now empty cage. “No, they don’t. That’s the point. A fighter isn't like ordinary people.”

“I’m not your monkey. I barely even know you.”

“You wouldn't be my monkey,” Erwin says.

“But I’d be yours.”

“Yes.”

Levi fails to predict, and stop, the shiver that spikes up his back.

“And if I told you to go fuck yourself?”

His eyes dart to Erwin’s hand when it moves, and for an absurd moment he thinks it’s going to land on his thigh. It doesn't, reaching past Levi and cages him in by gripping the arm chair.

“You think you’re better off throwing punches in the underground, pretending you’re in control?”

Levi doesn't shrink back, and there’s a terrifying urge to _not_ land a punch on Erwin’s face. His skin tingles, his eyes harden.

“Fuck you.”

Erwin’s hand is fast to capture his jaw. Levi lashes out, but his wrist is snatched and Erwin’s body weight, heavy as it is, looms over and presses into the points where he’s caught the fighter. Levi hisses and Erwin angles his face away so he can’t be spat on.

“You lack discipline, Levi.”

Levi’s heart hammers, his pulse a thump that’s only overpowered by the sound of Erwin’s breath, so close, grazing his skin. Levi ignores the heat where there bodies touch, how Erwin’s thumb presses against his pulse so he knows how elevated it is.

They hold eyes for a moment. Then, in a flurry of motions, Levi sinks into his seat and employs his free legs to knock off Erwin’s balance, leaving him the opportunity to crash into the man in his seat, his forearm pressing hard into the older man’s throat while the other presses weight on Erwin's right shoulder. 

Erwin grunts, a flash of a wince crossing his face.

Levi holds still.

Both their breathing comes deeper.

Erwin has two strands of hair out of place.

Then, Erwin laughs.

Well, as much as he can with Levi about to jam into his windpipe, but the sound reverberates through his body. Levi feels it in his arm, his inner thighs that have pressed onto each side of Erwin’s hips. Gradually, so Levi can see, Erwin raises both hands up.

Levi leans back and stands, feeling on fire. The man’s smiling knowingly. His heart keeps beating fast, the thrill beginning to wane.

Manipulative bastard.

Erwin adjusts his clothing before standing, then cracks his right shoulder. “You’re already fighting. Why not fight with a little more purpose?” And, the tactful lure of: “Why not get paid more to do it?”

Levi watches Erwin put on his gloves, his fingers nimble like he hadn't grabbed Levi’s in a vice. They had been warm, rough as Levi remembers from this morning, only now he knew the terrain of that hand against his jaw.

He flicks his eyes up when he catches himself staring.

“How much more?”

“A lot.”

It will be easy to flip Erwin off, to storm out and reduce the man to a shadow of the past. Levi knows what waits on that route. His jaw ticks when Erwin’s comment about control weasels back into his mind. He refuses to see Erwin as a great precipice that he can't come out from. It's an easier tale to believe when he tells himself it's Erwin that needs him more than Levi needs him. Levi doesn't need anyone.

Erwin's an infinite resource of patience, because he's silent like he can stand there all fucking night and not be bothered by it. Yet the longer Levi holds his gaze the more he suspects there is a limit to it, but it's something he can't confirm. Levi ticks his eyes up to Erwin's hair, which has been smoothed back into place. Levi wants to yank at it until it's more than one or two strands out of place, wants to thrust his body weight against Erwin's throat again.

Finally, there's a crack in the silence when Levi crosses his arms.

“Fine," he says.

Erwin’s eyes widen, ever so slightly that most people would miss it. 

It takes Levi a moment to realize the asshole's going to make him say it, to solidify his intentions. Biting down a snarl, Levi drags out one arm and offers his hand.

"I'll be your fighter."

Erwin doesn't let the hand hang in the air.

He squeezes the hand as hard as Levi squeezes his.

Later that night, when Levi is picking at a steak Eren saved for him and hardly watching Godzilla battle against a non-Godzilla monster, he still can't stop thinking about how hot Erwin's hand had felt.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Despite the emphasis on the fighting stuff this chapter, the story is still going to be mostly about Levi and Erwin getting together. As you may be able to tell, I'm a sucker for Levi needing some discipline and letting go of control (insert kinky stuff here~).
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it and thank you so, so much for the support! It's such a motivator.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi lacks discipline.
> 
> This chapter has spoilers for A Choice With No Regrets! Also slight BDSM-ness.

 

Sunday mornings, Levi visits the hospital. While others enter the graces of a church, he walks down corridors that some people never leave alive. Seven floors up the stairs, and in the third room on the right, Levi sits with his back to the window that catches a view of the city at its quietest, before the sunlight gets to play off windows and when it’s easier to convince yourself that today will be a better day.

It’s a sight Isabel has always been fond of.

She looks the same, and Levi can’t stop his mind from thinking each visit will be different, that before he crosses into the room, she’ll be stirring from her coma and grinning at him and whining about food. Even now, as he watches a machine breathe for her, he waits to see her eyelashes flutter.

They don’t.

Even her fingers, which he squeezes in intervals, haven’t recognized his touch. Wires spill out of her like an extension of her veins, and a damn beep that sounds too much like a grocery store’s scanner assures him, a year and a half later, that she’s not yet dead.

And because she’s not, he talks to her. He was reluctant to at first, and still feels off doing it, like it’s proof of his desperation. After hearing more than once that his voice might be the impetus needed to lure her back though, Levi talked more than he has his entire life, to someone who may not even be hearing him. To someone that may never wake up.

He told her about moving from a crappy apartment to a slightly less crappy place, and that he still paid for two rooms, and he can’t confess that downgrading to a one-bedroom will cement the truth of her not coming back. He told her about meeting Eren and Mikasa, and that he stopped old habits for the most part, that he takes part in fights to make money, and listens to Petra talk about her life.

As of yet, Levi hasn't told Isabel about Farlan.

Today, he has new things to tell her, which he thinks she’ll like. He hasn't had one for a while, and it takes him a few tries to talk about Erwin, how he met a stranger at a club he had no intention of being at. He doesn't tell her how good it felt to feel his heart pumping against Erwin’s fingers, or how the heat of the man’s hand stayed with him throughout the night or how, even now, it leaves him with directionless energy.

Isabel doesn't wake up to the new stories.

Spent, Levi exhales and leans back in his chair. He resists the cringe when he pulls his hand away from hers. The doctors’ past words flood through him, as they always do when he’s done talking. Stuff about her cerebral cortex and other parts of her brain, her spine, the bullet. It’s a bitter cocktail of information that Levi doesn't know what to do with.

None of it changes one fact: it’s all his fault.

There’s a clock on the opposite side of the wall that tells him he’s been here almost two hours. He’s pushing it with the time, and knows a nurse will be in soon to tell him he can visit again later. The nurses don’t offer Levi platitudes, and he notices they've done a better job at keeping the room clean, keeping Isabel’s hair parted the way she likes. It’s something.

Levi gets up and uncaps his water bottle to feed the plant by her bedside. It’s a bonsai she owned back at the old apartment. The day after Levi was discharged from the hospital, he returned to put the plant in this room. He ignores the voice that tells him one day it’ll be the plant coming back, alone.

Before he leaves, he tucks Isabel’s hair away from her eyes so they won’t bother her if she opens them.

The walk home is crisp, and there’s no room in his mind right now for Erwin or the day before. There’s nothing but a weight of numbness that makes him feel like he’s out of place in the city, like he’s suddenly the sole survivor of the race.

Once he’s taking the steps back to his apartment, the feeling’s ebbed slightly. He’s to meet Erwin at Mike’s place in a couple hours. There, the muscle exhaustion and sore fists will set things back in place. It’s what he tells himself, anyway.

Levi pauses when he notices Eren’s door cracked ajar. He frowns deeper and pushes it open with his foot, spotting the kid on the couch, playing a video game. From here, his hair is spiked up at various angles, proof that Eren is as restless asleep as awake.

“How many fucking times have I told you about locking the door?”

Eren jolts and his character drives off a cliff. He forgets the game quickly and comes around the couch, sheepish and looking like he can sleep in a few more hours.

“I was just waiting for you,” Eren says.

“I told you to stop doing that.”

Eren tenses, eyebrows furrowing. His voice, however, is soft, “You look a little pale.”

Levi’s temple pulses. He refuses to rub at it.

“I’m fine,” he says. The way Eren’s looking at him makes him want to punch something.

“...Okay.” Eren shifts from one foot to the other.

Levi knows he’s curious to know the where and whys of Levi's morning. Maybe Eren isn't a total idiot because, for once, he doesn't try to ask. It’s one thing Levi won’t give him, and part of it is because Eren’s a kid, and despite a reputation from those you don’t want to fuck with, Levi’s not a complete asshole. He isn't about to spread the stain to Eren or Mikasa.

“Go back to bed. You look like you can’t function this early,” Levi says, moving to the kitchen and bypassing all the filth to inspect their goods. Stocked enough for a few days.

“But you’re always up at weird hours. I can do that too.” Eren hesitates, as if debating to say more. “Do you really ever sleep?”

“Of course I sleep or I’d be dead, you moron.”

Eren makes a dissatisfied sound, and even after Levi goes to the door, the boy doesn't make a move to return to bed.

Levi almost groans. Not sure if he’s growing soft or just too damn tired, he gestures with his head. “Come on.”

“Really?”

“Leave a note though so your sister knows you’re across the hall and doesn't try to break down my damn door. And lock the door behind you.”

Knowing Eren will do as instructed, Levi slips back into the silence of his place, cracks open the blinds enough to let light in, and prepares to make breakfast. He doesn't think twice about the apron he ties on, the same one Isabel gifted him two years earlier, and sets a station up for Eren.

As he does, an absurd thought about what Erwin would be up to at this hour slips into his mind without a warning. Is he whipping up a healthy breakfast, or still asleep in bed, unfazed by last night in the ways Levi was?

“I had a crazy dream last night where I became a monster like Godzilla,” Eren begins the first of many rambles, coming up beside Levi to take on any task he’s given.

Levi’s shaken out of the ridiculous thoughts of Erwin. He shoves vegetables for Eren to wash and internally scolds himself.

To occupy his mind, he focuses on Eren’s voice as the one-sided conversation continues. Eren’s the best cleaner of floors and vegetables that Levi knows, if only because the brat got scolded enough to adapt to a higher level of standards, one that frustratingly doesn't extend to his own living quarters. Levi can't say he hates his occasional company. Plus, Eren is considerate in his home, meticulous about how he touches and moves things so as not to create a bigger mess than necessary.

And for all Eren’s jibber-jabber as he washes and minces, it keeps inappropriate thinking at a manageable distance.

Eren only becomes momentarily quiet as he watches the ingredients be dropped into a pan. Levi doesn’t trust anyone to cook on his stoves but himself.

“Can I ask about last night?” Eren says.

Shit.

“What about last night?”

“You went out with someone, right? Was it that guy Armin talked about?”

Levi almost sighs. “You ever wonder why you get into fights so easily?”

With a shrug, Eren gathers the cutting board and knife to wash in the sink. “I have a temper and don’t shut up.”

Levi looks at him, studying the way Eren stares at him with such genuineness, such openness. So unlike Erwin. Then, as the vegetables simmer, Levi resumes stirring.

“Hm. What do you want to know?”

“Where’d you go?”

“A fight.” And before Eren can complain, adds, “A legit one. Like the kinds in actual fighting rings and fighters with sponsors and shit.”

At that, Eren exclaims, and suddenly he’s a very loud brat too close to Levi with soapy hands.

“No way! How was it? Were _you_ in the fight? I thought you only did--”

The litany of questions and assumptions is enough for Levi to angle the spatula and bonk Eren’s forehead with the butt of the handle.

“Calm down. I was brought to watch the fight, not be in it. That’s all I’m telling you.”

Eren rubs the spot, though Levi doubts he barely felt it with his demonic tolerance for pain. Fucking punk once took a blow to the face that would knock out plenty of thugs and just blinked it off. That was that same fight that Levi witnessed Mikasa make grown men cry.

Just as Levi thinks Eren’s done pressing the matter and obediently washing, he’s at it again, this time with a hint of nervousness.

“Do you like him?”

Levi doesn't pick up on who Eren means right away. He jerks his finger for Eren to finish up and pull down plates, plus a container to save the extra serving for Mikasa, though she just as well might throw it away on principle. She’s not particularly chummy with Levi and the more Eren hangs around him, the greater her enmity.

“Who?” Levi asks.

“The guy you went with.”

Levi blinks slowly at that.

“You’re so damn sure I went with that guy,” Levi says.

Eren grips one plate harder, enough that it squeaks under the pressure. A look from Levi has him remedy the pressure on it, but his voice comes out stiff.

“You’re not denying it.”

“I deny it.”

“Then you’re lying.”

Levi rolls his eyes. Even when he thinks he’s got Eren whipped into a modicum of respectful obedience, the kid pushes buttons again. Discipline, he lacks.

The word almost sends a chill down to Levi’s toes. Worse, it’s not unpleasant.

_You lack discipline, Levi._

“Well?” Eren’s frowning at him, his voice louder.

Levi brushes off Erwin’s voice and snatches the plates away to serve the omelettes. “You shouldn't care this much.”

“But I do.” Eren trudges to the table with his served plate and two empty mugs for tea. He flops into his seat and drops his chin in his palms as Levi pours from the kettle. “I never see you with anyone, ever, so much that I thought you were in, like, witness protection or something. Then this stranger from the club shows up and you’re going to a fight with him.”

Levi clenches his fist under the table. Eren’s a little more keen than he gives the boy credit for; Levi may not be under witness protection, but he may as well hiding all the same. He hates applying that term, but it is what it is. Pushing away bad habits means pushing away old acquaintances, enemies, and one in them in particular is reason enough to not encourage Eren’s curiosity.

But, Eren’s description does sound convoluted. If Levi was ever the type to wallow or have a detachment to reality, he would easily believe Erwin was a figment of his imagination, that the last couple days were dreams.

Since he’s not, he just levels Eren with a light glare.

“Eat your breakfast before I have the mind to throw you out.”

Eren pulls a face, but goes for his fork. Appetite never thwarted, he digs in like a homeless punk who hasn't had a warm meal in days. Just the way Isabel ate.

Levi sits across from him, apron-less, and reaches for his tea to soothe his nerves. It takes the worst off the edge, and he eventually eats while the topic of conversation easily shift from friends to school, to this one particular douche named Jean that Eren bitches a lot about but Levi just thinks the two want to bang each other.

He keeps that opinion to himself. For now, he takes what he can from the normalcy of Eren’s babbling and company, headache and all.

More than once, he thinks how well Isabel would get along with the kid.

 

**-x-**

 

By the time Levi’s making his way to (the originally named) Mike’s Gym, he’s hungry to bash things, punch bags, and run five miles around the city. Treadmills are shit in his opinion as they lack the practicality in a real-world setting, and don’t build up the agility you need when faced with a dead end or obstacle.

The walk there helps, barely. It’s not like he’s desperate enough to take public transit or a cab, and thankfully Erwin didn't mention picking him up again. Levi doesn't let himself think on the probability that Erwin knows he won’t chicken out, that he's just waiting patiently, confidently, for Levi to show up because he told him to.

Out of habit, Levi glances back to ensure no one’s following him, including Eren. It wouldn't be the first time the boy tried a bold move, but Levi’s sure with a full belly that he’s still passed out asleep back in his own bed.

The crowd’s thin at this hour, so Levi reaches the building in good time, stopping only for a beat when he reaches for the handle. It last barely five seconds before Levi breathes in deep, then yanks open the door and steps in.

It’s a reasonable hour for training to have long started for athletes. Levi spots at least three others at work, some with a trainer. The cages are not in use and the place looks as good as the first time he saw it, clean, maintained. He clutches the strap of his bag harder.

“So you showed up after all.”

Mike’s voice is deep in a way that comes from his nose. It’s not rich like Erwin’s, but commands a level of respect that Levi think he hasn't earned in the slightest. The man has a clipboard in one hand as he approaches, eyes dragging over Levi like he’s bringing something contagious to his gym. The fucker actually sniffs at him even.

“Where’s Erwin?” Levi asks.

He swears he sees Mike’s lip twitch.

“Missing him already?”

Levi grits his teeth. Before he has a few choice fighting words to throw at the man, Erwin’s stepping out from what looks like a private office. Having swapped his business casual for simply casual, Levi ogles a little longer than necessary.

Despite having been told of Erwin’s past military experience, he didn't expect the form to keep up, especially knowing the man had gone through rehab. The cotton shirt looks snug and happy along the grooves of what is clearly ab definition, and hugging what are confirmed to be built shoulders. Erwin’s bigger than Levi imagined, and he’s not faking it with a skinny ass waist that bodybuilders obtain but in reality were as weak as babes. No core strength.

Erwin definitely has core strength.

His hair’s still perfect.

Levi doesn't look past the gray, long-sleeved shirt Erwin’s wearing, certainly not at his waistband of his sweats either where they rest on what have to be cut hipbones.

“Levi. Morning.” Erwin seems at ease in these clothes as in a suit.

“Yeah,” is all Levi has to say to him. His throat sounds a little dry. He clears it and gestures to the gym, reminding himself he’s irritated that he doesn't get to train at Petra's gym. “So, what’s first? I don’t have all day.”

Erwin nods and goes to one of the cages. Good. Straight to business. There’s a bench nearby where Levi can dump his stuff.

“Did you eat?” Erwin asks.

Dumb question. "Yeah.”

“Good. You’re going to fight,” Erwin says.

“No shit.”

There’s that hint of a smile again. “We’re going to observe you. There’s something I want to see,” he adds, lifting his hand, which is apparently all it takes for someone to obey him. One of the men Levi saw without a trainer comes over.

“I thought you already saw enough,” Levi says, standing by the bench, sizing up the other fighter. He’s more wide than tall, and is friendly enough that he tries to shake Levi’s hand. Levi lets it hang.

“Yes, but it wasn't up close. That, and you fought differently than you’re expected to now.”

Levi ignores the way the other fighter pulls a frown at his lack of politeness. “Differently? You mean lack of rules.”

“You can’t go for someone’s eyes in a fight,” Erwin says.

The eyes were one of the first things someone goes for if they get lucky enough to get close. Levi’s still got the scratch on his face as proof of that.

“Fine.” Levi shrugs, his whole body itching to get going. “So let’s fight.”

While he strips down to his sweats and cotton shirt, Mike supplies him with wrappings and gloves. The other fighter rolls into the cage, now geared up with pads protecting the most delicate areas, including a kind of belt that loops around to protect his kidneys. Something Levi always went for.

Just as Levi starts ducking under the ropes, Erwin extends a funny looking thing at him. It takes a moment to realize it’s a guard piece for his crotch.

“I don’t need any protection.” Levi jerks his thumb at the other fighter, who’s now holding a padded helmet for Levi, which is then discarded with a sigh.

Erwin, however, doesn't budge. “You’re required to wear one and, when the time comes, a mouthpiece for all fights. We’ll get you a fitted one, but this will do for now.”

Levi narrows an eye at.

Then, in that same tone that’s starting to make Levi believe Erwin was a commander in his military days, the bastard says, “Put it on or I’ll put it on for you.”

There’s no stopping the rush of blood to Levi’s neck, and he snatches the damn thing. “Alright, fuck.” He turns his back to Erwin and adjusts himself quick before shoving into the cage, starved to pound the shit out of something now.

The other fighter’s waiting for him. They don’t exchange pleasantries.

“Start the match,” Mike calls.

Levi takes a similar form to the fighter. Fists up, core engaged, light on the feet. The guy looks stupid though with all the gear, no doubt a precaution against someone proficient in cheap shots. Levi steadies his breathing and tries to shake off the feel of Erwin watching him.

The other fighter checks him, goes for his head to expose Levi’s gut. Brutes often think that because Levi’s small, he’ll fall for the usual tricks. He dodges and snatches the fighter’s arm instead, surprising him, and with a sudden shift in his body weight, flings the young man over his shoulder.

Mike doesn't call the match. Levi goes at the fighter, feeling Erwin’s gaze hot on his skin.

His opponent knows how to block, but he’s laughably slower and not adjusted to fighting someone who lunges at him like he’s prey, not another predator. Levi already knows he’s got the faster reflexes, born from distrusting shadows and the monsters attached to them.

But this. It feels pointless, vain. Erwin’s attention is making him all the more antsy, and this other fighter isn't satisfying. Levi's blows land on padding, and it’s a sound as bad as nails on chalk.

Levi scoffs, done with this facade. Agitated, Levi sweeps the fighter’s legs out from under him and knocks the delicate area in the center of his chest, under his ribs. No permanent damage, but it hurt like a motherfucker.

He’s not even amused at the groan that earns him as he watches the guy fight to get back up. At best, Levi feels annoyed.

From behind, he hears Mike talking to Erwin.

Levi turns halfway on his heels. “You got something to say to me?”

Mike’s holding the clipboard still. Calmly, he lifts his head up.

“I said you fight like an animal and you’re not worth taming.”

Levi bristles all the way to the tips of his hair, and his mood is enough to keep the other fighter from pursuing this pointless fight. Abandoning it, Levi stalks over to the ropes and glares right down at Mike, overlooking the way Erwin watches him almost passively.

“I don’t see you fighting up here, Pinocchio.”

There’s a tangible shift in the air, and Levi thinks Mike may have tensed up. Slowly, the clipboard is lowered, and Mike cracks his neck. Erwin’s casting a side glance to his friend, arms crossed, not saying anything.

Mike doesn't even wrap his hands before sliding into the cage. No shoes, no gloves, no helmet, nothing but the clothes on the back and a fixed expression. He nods to Levi’s former opponent, and then it’s just Levi standing in front of Mike, that static between them palpable. Ripe for a fight.

Levi tugs off his gloves and steps one leg back. Mike raises his bare fists, and Levi does the same with his bandaged ones. Levi ignores the new attention on them. He breathes.

Two heartbeats, and Mike’s on him.

Levi utilizes his height immediately and rolls away. He’s barely got the time to finish the act when he’s dodging, skipping, and ducking a consecutive surge of snake-like strikes. Mike’s relentless, eyes zeroed in on the target, and Levi realizes he’s barely gotten in a few kicks himself before he’s jerking out of the way again.

When he rolls the nth time, he dives up and feels his knuckles smash against Mike’s jaw. Using the decelerating momentum, he goes for Mike’s legs next. He nabs one, but Mike’s arm swings around as he starts his fall, snaring Levi in a choke hold and bearing him down with him. The surprise hits Levi in a gasp as the air thins and his back hits the padded floor hard.

Squirming, he elbows back, hears something close to cracking, and kicks down. He’s throbbing to break a bone, to feel skin break under his fists. The disgust of the post-fight filth will come later. In this moment there’s nothing but the now of spreading pain. It practically chokes him, a feeling that’s overwhelmed him once before, that rewarded him with the hollow justice of Isabel and Farlan’s attackers becoming pulp on a grimy alleyway--

Levi hisses when his neck is snapped back far and then he’s pinned under Mike’s weight, face crushed to the cage floor.

He can’t move.

Levi screws his eyes shut.

 _Fuck_.

Above him, Mike’s breathing is infuriatingly relaxed above him.

“Like I said,” Mike says, “too risky, Erwin.  An animal." Mike shoves off him.

It’s a mistake, because Levi’s pushing off to lunge at him with red in his sights.

There’s a heavy, warm hand anchoring down on his shoulder, stopping him. Erwin’s in the cage now, the force of his hand is as much a command as a verbal one.

When Levi tries to shake off the touch, Erwin applies the pressure for enough pain to make Levi flinch and rethink his disobedience. The pain roots him back, tugging him out of the internal storm that had come upon him, and suddenly Levi feels all sorts of aches from where Mike landed blows on him.

“That’s enough for now,” Erwin says, to both of them. He’s looking at Mike. “Let’s not jump to conclusions yet.”

Mike snorts from where he’s already back out on the floor. “Always with the scheming.”

Levi can barely hear them talking over the rush of his blood and the blood-lust. Memories tangle with his thinking, all the bad ones that feed him and keep him tense under Erwin’s hand, and ready to finish what he and Mike have started.

“Levi.”

The hold on Levi’s shoulder lessons into a light squeeze. Erwin’s looking at him.

Levi fixes his glare on Erwin and knocks off the hand.

“Don’t touch me so casually,” he says, nearly spitting the words.

When he stands, Erwin’s in front of him like a dead end. His expression isn't gentle.

Silently, Erwin turns away and makes his way out of the cage. Even Levi, misery bubbling hot inside him, can’t pretend he doesn't hear the unspoken expectation to follow Erwin.

He seethes, partly at himself when he does follow, and hops over the ropes to wrench his bag off the bench. Never leave your shit unsupervised, pissed off or not. The feeling's provoked when he felt Mike’s eyes on his back the entire time. He ignores any looks anyone else in the gym gives him.

Erwin takes him past the office Levi saw before to a collection of doors fixed on one end of the wall. One of these, Erwin knocks, waits, then opens it.

Levi stands firm, peeking in at what seems to be a small, bare room.

“Inside,” Erwin says.

“I’m not your fucking dog.”

It’s far from the first time Levi’s mouth’s gets him in trouble; Erwin easily closes the space between them in two strides and steers him in with one tactful, rough pull of his arm. It happens in what feels like a few winks, and Levi’s momentarily too stunned to give Erwin shit about it.

Levi catches his footing as he’s hauled in, and whirls around in time to see Erwin shutting the door behind him. There’s a lock, but Erwin doesn't use it.

“Fucker,” Levi says, every fiber in him pulled tight, ready to snap. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

His eyes dart around the room to take it in. It’s big enough for fighting in and there’s no mirrors. A few mats are stacked in a corner near the wall that serves as a one-way window that’s not functional to getting out of the room.

“There are a few of these rooms for one-on-one time, without distractions,” Erwin explains as if Levi hasn't insulted him. He’s taking slow steps around the room as he speaks. Levi matches them to keep Erwin in his sight at all times. “Most of the time fighters use it for meditation," he continues. "Sound proof.”

Levi shoves his bag down before he chucks it at Erwin’s face. Shit, shit, and shit. Levi wants to pace, or go at Erwin as if he’s the source of his affliction. Instead, with great effort, he taps into the control he’s accumulated all his life to stand still. His fingers keep flexing against his sides, and doesn’t say anything. He waits to pounce, bordering the idea that this whole endeavor is an effort in stupidity.

“Mike’s a former champion,” Erwin adds.

It’s not to console Levi. It’s a fact. It’s one of many that remind Levi he is now among those who can challenge him, among a different lot of predators.

“He took advantage, as a good fighter does. You remember what I told you yesterday.”

It’s not a question.

“If I lack so much discipline,” Levi forces out, “then tell me the damn rules. What are we even doing in this goddamn room?”

Erwin tilts his head. “You need to calm down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Any curse that would follow never makes it out. Erwin’s marching toward him and it’s only now Levi realizes the manipulative brilliance that the man’s capable of; the way he’d been stepping around the room, knowing Levi would move in tandem, has now boxed the fighter into the corner.

It offers the edge Erwin needs to reach out. It’s gradual though and with his right hand, to inform Levi it’s not an attempt to physically subdue him. He should be flinching away all the same, but tenacity or disbelief that Erwin’s trying to touch him keeps him from doing anything but wait.

Erwin’s knuckles ghost across a bruise blooming on Levi’s jaw.

“I will tell you what to do, Levi,” he says, the name drawn out, sounding succulent. When Levi shows signs of starting to mouth off, Erwin presses him thumb to the bruise, and a delicious spike of pain makes Levi want to punch him and lean into the pressure at the same time.

The hand withdraws, but Erwin doesn't move back.

Levi swallows hard.

“Mike’s not wrong,” he says, and Levi’s looking at his mouth again as he speaks. “You can’t be trained by typical means. I saw it in your fight Friday, the slip up that almost lost you an eye. I had to be sure though.”

Levi’s throat is going rough. “The hell are you talking about?”

“Levi,” Erwin says, and Levi can’t not look back at those sharp, blue eyes, “you’re going to have to do as I say if we’re going to make this work.”

Levi’s glare goes up another level.

“That means showing me respect, listening to me, and following my calls.”

“You want me to trust you,” Levi says, the word ‘trust’ a joke off his tongue.

The corners of Erwin’s eyes soften. “I hope to earn that, yes, but I’m not telling you to become an obedient pet. That’s not how this,” he gestures to them both, “will work. You challenge what you think is not worthy of your respect.”

Levi thinks back to the way Erwin appraised him the last two days. That way his eyes scan rooms and people. Levi's been known to assess a situation quickly. Erwin’s quicker. Acute doesn't begin to describe him or his intelligence. 

The faint ache of where Erwin aggravated the bruise has Levi’s fingers twitch to rub it. The soreness from Mike’s assault pales in comparison to the pain Erwin bestowed on him with one, calculative touch.

Erwin looks pleased by Levi’s contemplation.

“You see,” he continues, eyes flicking down to Levi’s balled hands, “even now you look like you want to gut me and run off.”

“You don’t seem put off by that. You are a masochist, aren't you?”

“I've been told otherwise,” Erwin says. It’s an impenetrable statement Levi can’t make sense of yet. “However…”

He reaches out again, but Levi’s not granting him permission. He slaps the hand away, the noise of smacked flesh welcoming.

It’s a brief satisfaction.

Erwin seizes his jaw in a fluid move and thrusts him back into a wall. Levi’s breath escapes in a rasp, the pain infecting his entire face. Erwin’s a step ahead though, kicking his legs open so he can’t utilize them, and his other, stronger hand swallows Levi’s wrists in one grip before fingers can claw out his eyes.

Immobilized in the span of seconds, Levi stares death at Erwin, and that earns him a tighter hold on his jaw, on the already delicate skin and muscle. A thumb brushes by his pulse.

Last night replays in a flash in Levi’s mind, every detail stark and as real as this moment.

“Bastard,” Levi grits out.

Erwin chuckles above him, but Levi can tell there’s a strain it takes to keep his bad arm stiff like this for the sake of not getting bitten or kicked in the balls.

“As a commander,” Erwin says, “you had to know the weaknesses of your men, and guide them through it. Their failure would be my failure.” Erwin applies more pressure to Levi’s jaw, grinds the bones of his wrists that much more.

Levi can’t bite down the hiss or stop the way his back twitches with the need to arch. There’s nothing but Erwin’s presence invading his space, the rumble of his voice, and the pain he’s delivering with precision.

“Your pulse is still up,” Erwin remarks, “but you look calmer than before.”

“Fuck you.”

“Pain,” Erwin says, tugging Levi’s jaw to expose his throat, “is what you know, and how you respond.”

Levi shifts. The effort to free his leg fails and Erwin crushes his wrists enough to make him choke on a curse.

“Isn't it?”

Levi shudders. He would blame it on the AC but he can’t think beyond what Erwin’s body and voice are overwhelming him with. He still smells like he did last night, his hands no longer warm but hot again, and Levi can feel muscles flexing with the effort to restrain him.

A new pressure joins in the form of Erwin’s hand snaking into his hair and giving it a yank so hard Levi’s shout falls out unconsciously.

“Fuck!”

“Answer me.”

“I’m not a fucking shrink! I don’t-”

He bites off the words, pain washing down his back in waves with each tug to the roots of his hair. It chases away any other sentiment so that they’re all restored under the sweet throb and sting of pain. Deep within it, a pleasure only sowed by pain tickles inside Levi.

It feels like hours being bathed in it.

Then, Levi’s eyes flutter open. He’s not sure when they closed, but he’s aware his heart, though elevated, is steadier and rhythmic in his ears. The world smooths itself out. Erwin’s looking down at him, millimeters from his face, observing, studying. It feels like Levi’s been holding his breath forever as he stares back. When he exhales, its shaky.

Erwin looks pleased. He settles back and before Levi can even think to bash his head into his face, his hand moves back to his jaw. It soothes over the area he’d been aggravating, examining any damage, and caressing the skin like he’s proud of Levi.

“Fucking sadist,” Levi breathes, his voice a husk of what it was moments ago. 

Erwin steps back completely, and Levi has to brace himself against the wall lest he melt to the ground. His knees quiver, and the absurdity of what transpired eclipses the absurdity that he’s gone half-hard at some point. He sinks to the floor, all be damned, the cup he despised now concealing his arousal.

“Drink.” Erwin’s grabbed his water bottle and holds it out.

Levi does, only because he’s spent and his throat’s gone parched. He gulps down half its contents, eyes on Erwin, but his anger is as useful as rotten fruit. There, but not much to be done with it. Street kids knew better than to pick at what would just give them more problems later on. 

“I should kill you,” Levi says after sucking in a few mouthfuls of air.

Erwin’s eyes crinkle, not apologetic, but looking less like the sadist he seemed just a scene ago. He crouches, smoothly, but Levi thinks he can see Erwin’s own pulse rapid in his throat. Heat continues radiating off him.

“You can, and I wouldn't blame you or think you an animal,” Erwin says. Levi hates that he sounds genuine. “But Mike’s wrong in one regard. You don’t need to be tamed. You need to be sharpened.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Levi wants to get up. It seems dumb to be having this fucked up conversation while he’s sitting, legs bent and waiting for himself to go flaccid.

“What I did made you feel better.” Erwin sounds amused as much as he sounds satisfied.

Asshole’s more dangerous than Levi ever gave him credit for.

For a moment, Levi thinks to lie and say it only pissed him off, that it's earned Erwin a kick to the groin at Levi’s convenience. Yet, he knows the effect was lost the instant Erwin watched Levi’s body tremble, the way he deflated when it was done, and how he hasn't gutted Erwin like a fish yet.

Levi fixes him with a look.

Erwin smiles, a bit sheepish. “I’m not so primitive as to rough you up without good reason.”

Levi’s grip hardens on the bottle, making it pop and crack.

Sensing the protest, Erwin elaborates. “I can’t train you if you’re so stuck in your own head that I can’t help you. The relationship between fighter and trainer is delicate. I have to prepare you for the worst and test your limits. A fighter is not just a physical being. It’s also mental and spiritual.”

Levi snorts and tilts his head. It stretches the bruised skin, but what’s another ache by this point.

“Spiritual? Funny.”

“It’s not religious, though for some it is. It means taking you out of your mind and body, and that’s where I also come in.”

“Ha. Are you my deity now?”

Erwin laughs, light and sweet. There’s some cracking from his bones as he stands up to massage his shoulder.

“That would be quite cocky of me to think like that.”

With a grunt, Levi gets up as well. He’s less hard, but no less riding the aftermath of whatever the fuck happened.

Erwin’s analyzing him again, and Levi can’t fathom what gets filed and decoded in that head of his. All Levi knows is that he’s starting to feel like a junkie getting hooked on new shit because fuck if his hair feels useless if Erwin’s not pulling at it. His body remembers every touch from Erwin while it easily misplaces the ones from Mike.

Erwin beckons with  one hand. "Come here.” 

Levi digs his fingers into his palms.

At his own pace, he steps forward.

“I’m not asking you tell me anything personal.” Erwin says once he's stopped a foot away. “Do you understand?”

Levi doesn't think it’s a lie, but doubts it all the same.

“Levi.”

Levi’s toes curl. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, what?”

“You fucking serious?”

Erwin’s frown is foreboding. Levi’s reliving the moment in the corner of this room. He bites his tongue at first, then, makes himself say, “I understand.”

“Good.” Erwin nods. “I want to discuss what it all entails. It’s only fair you understand all my intentions with your training.”

It’s an invitation, not an order. Levi watches Erwin’s throat, where his pulse has regulated by now. He rubs his wrists.

“Whatever. Fine.”

Erwin’s exhale is soft, like a little breath of relief. “That’s good. May I?”

Levi blinks up at him. “What?”

Erwin motions to his wrists.

Peering down at them, Levi notices the discoloration rising to the skin. There doesn't seem any good reason to refute the request, and Levi reminds himself he’s not the shy type. Plus, given what Erwin’s already done to his wrists, it seems silly to be bothered by an inspection.

He extends his arms out and pointedly resists the jolt when Erwin’s fingertips, rough and no less hot, tickle his skin. They trace the bruising and turn his hands over for a thorough examination.

“You bruise easily. Hange’s going to have a field day.”

“Who?”

Erwin glances at him, then returns to his wrists. They look fragile and small when Erwin handles them. He wonders if Erwin can tell he's broken the right one twice and the left once.

“They’re a doctor we employ," Erwin says. "The best, I say. You’ll meet them soon enough.”

“And until then?” Levi’s focused on the way Erwin’s fingers feel like they’re drawing patterns.

Erwin lifts his eyes again. They’re no less fierce, but with a cooler level of intensity that spreads the tingle from Levi’s wrists up through his arms, down the curve of his back. Erwin is still holding his wrists and Levi’s not claiming them back yet.

This feels more perilous than any fight.

Levi isn't sure if it’s him who pulls away or Erwin, but they’re no longer touching, and Erwin’s face betrays nothing.

“Until then,” Erwin says, as if only now remember he is supposed to answering. He trails off though, quiet for a handful of seconds before saying, “Tonight?”

“Huh?”

“I’d like to discuss things in detail tonight. After this morning, I have some ideas to go over before I bring them up.”

Levi crosses his arms in part to stifle the need to scratch his arms. “You mean about training?”

“Yes.”

Levi’s not surprised Erwin wants time to blueprint whatever the fuck’s going on his mind. If that’s how he works, far be it from Levi to come up with an alternative.

“Fine. Dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Talk over fucking dinner. You eat, obviously.”

Erwin’s eyebrows go up, and Levi thinks he’s going to reject the suggestion.

“Dinner sounds nice. Do you like seafood?”

Levi does. “It’s okay.”

“I know a place then.”

Levi squints at him. “Are you going to tell me what to wear?”

Erwin’s smirking now. “Do you want me to?”

“No." Levi glowers at the way Erwin's shirt has bunched up just a tad, exposing a hip. He forces his eyes back up. "Asshole.”

“Then dress as you please.”

Levi distrusts any further conversation they may tread into from there. It’s harder to detach himself from the scene, much more than he likes. With effort, he goes for his bag and finds a scrap of solace in feeling his knife still in his jacket.

“Is seven too early for dinner?” Erwin asks.

Now feeling the need for a shower, or maybe a run, Levi hoists up his bag and finds Erwin opening the door. Outside, the gym and the world go on without them.

“Seven’s fine.” Levi lingers when Erwin keeps the door open for him. He mentally kicks himself to move forward. He ignores the heat still coming off Erwin as he passes the older man.

“Can I pick you up?”

Levi almost blurts out no, then thinks better of it. “Why?”

Erwin shrugs. “It’s a little far to walk. I have a car.”

No nasty public transport or navigating a sea of bodies loaded in layers to fight the cold. Erwin probably has a nice car. No one really drives here, and if they do, it’s not going to be a piece of shit vehicle.

“Fine. I’ll be at the cafe.”

He waits, expecting the inquiry to his address. To his relief, Erwin doesn't ask for it and nods, content with the meeting place.

“You could use some gauze and ice,” Erwin says, walking him to the door. 

"I'll handle it when I get to my place."

They stop at the entrance, gazes hooked, and it’s Levi who manages to break the contact, turning away.

"Then I’ll see you tonight," Erwin says.

“Yeah...See you.”

Just as Levi exits, he hears Erwin call out, “Keep the cup.”

Levi takes a long route back to his apartment, skin burning.

His feet kick up into a jog at some point, with his bag as a slight annoyance at the base of his spine. It doesn't matter how fast he runs, how far he goes, or how hard he exerts his body. None of it gives him a scrap of what he felt from Erwin, his voice, his hands. Nothing comes close to reliving the memories now stored in bruises and the twinge in his scalp.

At most it gets him is a clearer head that makes his anticipation for seven o’clock that much more obvious.

But when Levi's finally back at his building, climbing the stairs, the feeling falters. The text he receives surprises him enough to pause on the second floor and reread it. An all-out fight late tonight is at hand, last-minute but worth his while, as the sender promises. All-outs equate to crippling and they encourage knives.

And it means a shitload of money. Money that Levi hasn't been promised from Erwin yet, money that he needed yesterday.

Levi's thumb hovers over his phone. Erwin wouldn't be pleased.

The fight's not until eleven, safely past the allotted time he and Erwin will break for the night.

Levi agrees to the fight.

Erwin doesn't need to know.

It's what he tells himself as he slips back into his apartment, preps a shower, and steps in. The heat of the water softens his posture and lets his mind pull up Erwin’s face again, the memories of the small room in the gym, of what he would say, or do, knowing Levi's plans for tonight. It's all Erwin under his skin and in his chest and gut, and he isn't sure he wants a hard scrub to make it stop.

It doesn't, and it's still all Erwin when he jerks himself off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thanks for all the encouragement! I really can't express how it makes me feel~ I hope not to make this story complicated or giving away too much. I try to be subtle but who knows how effective it is.
> 
> I wanted Erwin to put the crotch protector on Levi himself.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!!
> 
> P.S. Y'all know that soundproof room is gonna be for kink stuff.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...there’s a weight on his knee. Erwin’s hand. It’s hot, heavy, promising.
> 
> Warnings for violence and blood (a fight).

Erwin drives a Bentley.

Even before it rolls up to the curb (with a minute to spare), Levi knows it’s him steering the luxury car, black and spotless and looking a hell lot more attractive than a cab ever could. Levi can't say he's surprised, but he rakes his eyes over the fine detailing all the same. For someone who drives a car that’s worth more than Levi’s entire building, tenants and all, paying for Levi’s groceries must have been like tossing over pennies.

Levi sticks to his spot on the sidewalk, still moderately sore from the morning and  trying not to look like he’s been fidgeting from both the cold and each time it became one minute less when Erwin would show up.

The passenger window rolls down enough to confirm the driver, and Levi’s barely opening the door before people are starting to look and drool over it. Most people don’t bring these kinds of luxuries deep into this part of the city. At least Erwin’s got tinted windows.

“Evening,” Erwin greets. Already Levi thinks  he’d like to see the man flex hard enough to pop a few buttons off the white, crisp button-down shirt he’s wearing. Or maybe feel the texture of his dark dress pants and the grooves of the belt keeping them up.

It’s a fucked up thought, but it’s Levi’s fucked up thought, and he’s been having plenty of them. When you fight only a handful times a month, and sleep as little as Levi does, there’s an excess of time given to thinking.

“Why am I not surprised you drive this?” Levi says.

Erwin smiles faintly, and says, “My boss gave it to me.”

“Must have been a hell of a blowjob you gave him.”

Erwin’s smile twitches, a chuckle spilling out of him. Levi’s met his share of freaks whose anger toward him turned aroused when he mouthed off at them. Erwin isn't like them, instead acting like Levi’s foul mouth is an extension of him as a person, rather than a peculiarity for Erwin’s jerking off too.

In the shower, Levi wondered what Erwin jerked off to.

Unaware of the all that, Erwin replies, “I happen to be good at my job.”

Levi sags back into the seat. They’re comfortable and feel warm against his fingertips. Tempted to kick up his feet, he decides against it because Erwin’s car is clean and should remain as such. He sinks back a little more. Damn. The seats are worth sleeping in.

“And does your job entail the occasional blowjob?” Levi looks outside. “Why aren't we moving?”

“It doesn't, and I’ll move once you buckle in.”

“You’re one of those.” Levi ignores the fact that he himself made sure the doors had been locked when he’d settled in the car. He tugs the seat belt on without further protest, and the car finally pulls away from the onlookers.

Levi can’t help surveying the interior. There’s nothing to give anything away so that you’d think the car had a history with its owner. No tacky decor, no overwhelming odor from a freshener, no music playing. All Levi can get from his observation is that Erwin’s a one-handed driver, right arm relaxed in his lap.

Levi shifts and looks ahead at the traffic, struggling not to think that he’d gotten off hours before to the very man driving him to dinner, or that they parted ways this morning as if nothing weird happened in the confines of a room used more for meditation than...whatever it was they had done. It sure as hell hadn't been meditation.

“I should apologize for earlier,” Erwin says, unexpectedly.

Levi looks at him, not disliking that he can ogle all he wants while Erwin has to maintain vigilance on the road. “Bullshit you’re sorry. You’re not sorry at all.”

Erwin blinks, as if contemplating.

“No, I’m not,” he says, conceding. “It proved something. The risks were worth it.”

“Proved you’re a sadist.”

“And that you’re a masochist.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re going to have to come up with something more original to say when you’re flustered.”

“Fuck your mother.”

Erwin’s smirking, and Levi hates how good it looks on his face.

“Fair enough,” Erwin says, chuckling through his nose.

“Fuck your father too.” Levi has the mind to punch Erwin’s bad arm.  “They even around?” Not that he really cares, but any information on the man he’s finding himself more involved with each passing day is something.

Erwin nods and makes a smooth left turn. Levi watches his hand work the wheel.

“They’re out back west. Beach people.”

“Do they approve of you working for a company that promotes beating the shit out of a man?”

Erwin’s steals a peek at him, like he knows what Levi’s doing with his arsenal of questions. He may be humoring Levi by answering. “My father’s not into it, but my mother’s big on the sport by now. I visit them on holidays.”

“Sounds stable.” Levi lifts his attention to the details of Erwin’s face, searching for signs of deceit or a twinge of repressed hatred toward his parents. He’s not sure what he’s really looking for when Erwin’s default state is already composed, and, at best, enigmatic.

Levi hasn't met a stable person in his life.

“I know I’m lucky in that regard,” Erwin says, not flaunting. Just another fact. “I think my mother will be rooting for you once you’re going public.”

Levi frowns. “Why?”

“She’s got a thing for underdogs. And shorter men, I think.”

Levi doesn't have anything to say to that. It’s not like he’s dense and hasn't recognized a flirt or two from women that weren't working the corners. He’s never felt anything in return, not even an ounce of whatever that feeling is that makes you want to lure someone to bed. He’s rarely had those moments, but he knows it’s a similar feeling of when he didn't want Erwin to stop crushing his wrists.

It strikes him then that they’re having a conversation without the clumsiness or awkwardness that the morning might have instilled. Levi doubts it means anything beyond his lack of shame and whatever it is that makes Erwin act similarly.

“Dinner better be good,” is all Levi mutters in response, rubbing his wrists over his jacket.

After that, the drives quiet, and Levi’s more than fine with that. Erwin doesn't force further conversation from him nor rambles on like Eren. Neither does he insist on playing music to fill the void, and Levi isn't sure what to make of the peace, almost comfortable, as the car in all its sleekness navigates them through the city.

A handful of times Levi catches himself staring intently out the window at sights he rarely takes in, the choreography of lights and colors as they reach a string of restaurants, clubs, and bars. When you’re so busy watching your back, it’s easy to forget to look elsewhere. Once, he thinks he catches Erwin steal a glance at him, but he’s not sure.

A ways past the strip that spills the crowds out onto the sidewalks, Erwin pulls up to valet. That, Levi can’t blame him for. He wouldn't trust a nice car out on the streets to not get its caps picked clean of. It’s a little weird when the door’s opened for him by the valet, and he offers a half-hearted thanks before he’s missing the heated seats. Levi tucks into his flimsy jacket and resists hopping up and down as he waits for Erwin. The man finally comes over, coat on and a thin briefcase in one hand.

Whether it’s Levi’s attempt to curl into himself or the periodical shiver that shocks though him that lets Erwin know he’s freezing, he doesn't know. He just wants to start moving before Erwin comments on it.

“Come on, before I get gray hair,” Levi snaps, breath quivering with the cold. He easily matches Erwin’s steps by walking faster, getting some friction going in the process.

Not even a full block away, they walk into a chrome skyscraper bustling with people and the heat they conduct. The first floor looks more like a lobby than anything else and there’s pristine signs telling you what floor has what. Levi doesn't get a chance to learn where they’re going when Erwin goes for the elevator.

Levi tenses. “Can’t we just take the stairs?”

Erwin cocks his head. “It’s on the top floor.”

Of course it is.

“Is something wrong?” Erwin asks.

“No,” Levi forces out. He stands beside Erwin, feeling people crowding in behind them. Once Erwin steps in, Levi wills himself to do the same. He’s always hated the damn boxes and the limbo you subject yourself to when going in them. They’re no better than coffins. Worse maybe. People don’t rob your personal space in a coffin.

Levi grits his teeth when more people get on, so many that one bumps into his arm. He stares hard at the screen that will show the floor numbers they pass. Finally, the doors rumble shut and there’s that damn jerk as the box ascends. Two floors pass. Already Levi’s feeling suffocated by other people and their smells and the silence that seems to curse elevators when you get on.

 _Fuck_.

There’s a sudden pressure on his other side when Erwin shifts. He keeps moving so that Levi shoots him a look to make him stop. It’s ignored and Erwin maneuvers him gently, then himself until he’s in front and facing Levi. It takes Levi an irritated moment to realize he’s steered himself so that he’s effectively blocking anyone from crowding him.

Erwin’s watching him, looking like he’s on the verge of a smile.

Levi stares up at him. They’re boxed into a corner, with one of Erwin’s arms providing a barricade from anyone leaning back into Levi. What is there to say or do to that? Nothing, so Levi drops his eyes to Erwin’s chest instead and he stands there as people get off, get on, and then finally step out entirely to the highest floor. They’re the last two to step out, and Levi brushes off dust and particles no one can see.

“What?” he asks when he catches Erwin still watching him.

“Nothing.” Erwin steps after the crowd and up to a podium that marks the edge of the restaurant's seating area.

The answer angers Levi, and he knows he’s going to have to say something to get Erwin talking, which, in turn, means there was something to be talked about to begin with.

Shaking it off, Levi marches after Erwin and scans the upper floor, which is reserved for an entire restaurant by the looks of it. He stops upon noticing an entire wall of the floor consisting of windows that draw him closer until he gets a view that details all the angles and vastness of the city. Lights from buildings and streetlights root Levi to his spot, their brilliance blurring out some of the edges and shapes of the buildings so it almost looks like a canvas upon which an artist splashed colors onto. Traffic flows way down below, like bright fish swimming through streams of dark streets.

It’s a view better than what a seventh level floor gives and, for a moment, Levi can almost believe it’s beautiful.

“Levi.”

Erwin’s voice draws Levi away from where he’d stepped up close to the glass. Without a glance back, he comes over to where a host seats them at a booth with no cracks in the cushions, and against a window with the view Levi had been distracted by.

“You like it?” Erwin asks once they’re left alone. He shrugs out of his coat and drapes it over the case he’s tucked into the corner.

Levi lets himself peer over at the city again, then takes in the restaurant. Well-kept, modern in its simplicity, with the booths adorned with ornately folded napkins--none of that botany crap on the table that usually ends up being a nuisance rather than appreciated decor. Even the large clock they've stuck to the wall is minimal in presentation, easy to gloss over. Everything seems humble, and no one’s dressed like a slob for the most part.

“It’s not bad,” he says.

The menu’s decent, and a place for Levi to focus his attention instead of the girth of Erwin’s fingers as they pick up his own menu.

“I figured you’d pick a place that would cost me an arm,” Levi says.

“I can’t have my fighter lose an arm over dinner, can I?”

Levi’s body responds well to the possessive label. He stares harder at the menu.

“You’re still so sure about this,” Levi says. He dares to tick over the lip of the menu and search Erwin’s face for his reaction.

Nothing’s given away as Erwin blinks and flips a laminated page. “I thought we were past that. Why wouldn't I be sure?”

“You don’t even know me.”

Erwin’s eyes raise and the menu’s momentarily lowered. “Alright,” he says, flattening it to the table now. “Tell me about yourself then.”

Levi’s shoulder muscles knot, his glare not fazing Erwin the slightest. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know you have potential. You’re a good fighter, and you have a foul mouth, but that won’t affect your fighting abilities.”

“As long as I’m good at fighting, that’s all you give a shit about?”

Erwin’s mouth tilts down, so slight Levi almost misses it. “Ah. If you’re worried about a criminal history--”

“Is it a problem?”

“It depends if you've got warrants out for you.”

Levi grips his menu harder, reluctant. “I've been in juvie, but that’s it,” he says. It’s not a lie. He’s done a hell lot more than his juvie days, but never charged, or even caught in most cases.

He still paid for it all the same.

Whether Erwin believes the extent of his old bad habits, Levi can only assume he’s said enough to satisfy the man. Erwin picks up his menu again.

“Don’t worry about the logistics. I knew you fought illegally, after all.” At Levi’s scoff, Erwin gives him a half-smile. “You don’t have to look so tense. I’m not going to bite you.”

Levi believes Erwin can handle all the paper-pushing just fine without his involvement, and finds his tension ebbing.

Until Erwin adds, “Much.”

Levi’s head jerks up, but there’s a waitress standing at their booth, smiling and ignorant of Levi’s sudden plight. Their orders are taken (Levi fumbles to order something quick), drinks are served, and then there’s nothing but Erwin across from him and the city to his right.

“So do you take other fighters out to places like this, pervert?” Levi asks.

“No. You’re the first fighter I plan to recruit for myself.” 

“Why?”

When Erwin only blinks at him, Levi rolls his eyes and elaborates: “I mean why now? Why me? I’m not fucking special, and clearly you've been to fights before so I’m not the first guy you thought to recruit.”

Erwin palms his drink, some non-alcoholic beverage with slice of lemon in it. Levi shouldn't be noting the way his middle finger drags against the glass. It detaches when the hand grabs the folder Erwin brought with him from the car.

“I could ask you similar questions. Why did you agree to meet with me when you clearly distrust people, and why did you suggest dinner?”

Levi balls his fist on the table. Once he forces it to relax, he collapses back into the booth and crosses his arms. “Fine.”

Erwin smiles fully now. “Let’s talk business then.”

“Finally.”

It starts off dull, with the aforementioned logistics. Erwin details how he’ll earn his money, the waivers Levi needs to sign, what they entail, the right to be filmed, promotional crap, and a lot more layers than Levi really cared to know about legit fighting. If nothing else, it confirms Erwin isn't a serial killer about to make off with his skin and do who knows with it.

As Levi scans the documents, he thinks this stuff is hardly different from an entertainment gig.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Levi holds his hand out. “I get it. You don’t have to try and bore me to death.”

Erwin obliges by handing over a pen. Their fingers don’t brush as Levi accepts it and signs his name before pushing them back. Erwin tucks them carefully back into the folder, then fishes out another set of papers.

“More papers?” Levi twirls the pen not unlike his pocket knife. “Do you just live in an office of paperwork?”

“To an extent,” Erwin says lightly, the seriousness of his expression returning as Levi looked over the new pages. “Your training…”

About fucking time. Levi doesn't particularly care for bureaucracies and these stacked files. He read them, but he was far more attentive to his heart escalating. Each paper read, each document signed, meant a step closer to what the dinner conversation is really meant to be about.

Levi doesn't humor Erwin with transitioning them to the topic of earlier in the day. He blinks patiently at Erwin, though the pen is tapping against his thigh now, not so patient.

For a while, Erwin doesn't expound his plans. Then their food arrives and they settle things aside to accommodate it. Levi doesn't touch his food, watching Erwin and the way the man looks like he’s trying to dissect him.

“It’s unorthodox,” Erwin begins. “But not so much if you consider that each fighter’s training regimen is unique.”

“I doubt any of their trainers shove them up against walls.”

“Nor does the fighter get off on it.”

Levi feels a chill rip through his spine. He tenses again, and feels incredibly hot in the wake of the cold. Before he can curse Erwin out on instinct, the man studies him with open curiosity and adds, “Am I wrong?”

Levi responds by snatching his chopsticks and snapping them free of one another.

“You have low tolerance for other people,” Erwin says, “and you respond with aggression when pushed.”

“Congratulations on your observation.” Levi wishes he hadn't ordered soup. Slurping the noodles seems to cotton the worst of his irritation.

Erwin, of course, doesn't take offense. As he plucks sushi off his plate, he adds, “You’re missing the point. You’re not a violent person by nature. You merely resort to it because you've adapted to it, and, so...”

Levi lifts his head and stops eating. The heat escalates from his neck to his face as Erwin’s tone conveys the rest of what he’s not saying.

“I believe it’s a good way to train you.” Erwin pops his food into his mouth and continues observing Levi’s reaction.

“What, just rough me up whenever you want, and I’ll become a better fighter?”

Erwin’s the type to swallow before talking. Probably picked it up as a kid when they instilled all the manners he obviously has. When not wrenching Levi’s hair, anyway. “When you need it,” Erwin says. “Whenever you disrespect me without cause, whenever you get riled up and need to ground yourself. I believe it will work.”

“By roughing me up,” Levi repeats.

Erwin pauses, looking contemplative. Then, as if having compiled hundreds of hours of research in those few moments, says, “Pain can be a good teacher.”

Levi has misplaced the meal in front of him, delicious no doubt, to soak in everything Erwin has to say. He’s not beating around the bush, and yet Levi knows there’s an ambiguity to the territory they are venturing into.

But Erwin isn't wrong. Pain is the teacher Levi knew best all his life.

“Of course,” Erwin continues, smoothly, “there will be limitations.”

“Safe words.”

Both of Erwin’s eyebrows go up.

Levi snorts and sags back into his seat, waving toward the people they couldn't see within the very city they were looking at. “You don’t think I know about that BDSM shit or those little clubs they run?”

“You've been to one?”

Levi resists the temptation to slap the table. “That’s not the _point_.”

Erwin smiles, humoring him. “I wouldn't go so far as to call you a pet.”

“Fuck, you really are a sadist.” Though Erwin’s not confessing, he’s sure as hell not having difficulty keeping up with this kind of conversation.

Erwin’s chuckle chases off the chill that had crawled back up Levi’s back.

“Don’t misunderstand me, Levi,” he says, dropping the name like it was a delicacy. Levi hates that he can’t hate how it sounds. “You’re my fighter, and I’m your trainer. There’s no need to extend what we do outside the gym.”

“I don’t want you coddling me.” Like that shit in the elevator, but Levi doesn't voice that bit.

“You hardly need coddling. However,” his voice hardens, “you’ll be tended to as any trainer would do for his fighter. You’ll have to adjust to that. Recovering is as important as training.”

Levi can’t pull anything out from Erwin’s expression, and nothing else from the tone Erwin uses.

“You don’t want your knife to dull,” Levi says.

Erwin looks pleased with the metaphor. “Correct.”

Levi nudges aside his bowl and drags back the papers detailing parts of his training schedule. It’s well thought out, and he can imagine all the drafts with copious notes Erwin has stashed on his computer or desk. There are even notes categorizing the types of meals and nutrition Levi has to abide by to maintain peak condition.

It doesn't mention one thing though. Levi looks up once more.

“Are we fucking or not?” he asks.

Again, Erwin’s eyebrows go up. Levi’s proud he can surprise the man more than once and have it show on the bastard’s face.

 _Got him_.

“You’re not the kind of guy to pretend something didn't happen,” Levi says, leaning forward. Though the restaurants established around a level of privacy for every table and booth, they’re still in public, and somehow that doesn't deter either of them in the slightest from this conversation.

Erwin’s face relaxes, and Levi doesn't put it past him to have been waiting for him to bring up the gritty details himself.

“I’m not,” Erwin says, putting aside his plate as well. It’s enough confirmation that it wasn't Levi alone that got a kick out of this morning’s events. “Do you expect us to?”

“Jesus. Do you realize how hard it is to talk to you?” 

"You manage just fine, I think."

Levi inhales hard, then exhales lightly. "So," he maintains his position, "then where does that leave us?”

Erwin breaks eye contact for the briefest moment, a peek to the city before he’s focusing on Levi again. It’s enough to have Levi sink back into his spot, a disappointed sound leaving him. He crosses his arms and lets his legs stretch out under the table.

“I didn't figure you for a coward,” Levi says.

“Pardon?” Erwin’s gaze sharpens. Good.

“I bet you want to say something about professionalism and ethics, or how much riskier it’d make whatever,” Levi flicks two of his fingers at himself and Erwin, “this shit is.”

“Oh,” Erwin’s eyes widen ever so slightly, “no, not that. Or rather, there have been trainers intimate with their fighters. Not many, but it happens.”

Levi shrugs one shoulder, expectant, a mix of frustration and impatience evident on his face. Why the fuck is Erwin dragging this out? Isn't this the man who utilized his position of good looks to pique Levi’s modest curiosity, the same man that’s heart pounded as loud as Levi’s when they grappled?

Gradually, methodically, Erwin leans forward as well, one arm resting on the table. The other, Levi can’t see beneath the table.

“This is risky,” he tells Levi.

His voice penetrates deep into Levi’s bones. He’s gone a little breathless when he replies, “Story of my life.”

“There’s only so much I can tell you. After going through some thinking, I don’t believe a completely fixed schedule won’t work with you.” He gestures to the papers.

Levi thinks the schedule printed on paper goes into enough detail to refute that, but the way Erwin says all this makes him shut up and consider what he’s really saying.

As if reading up Levi’s apprehension, Erwin says, “I want you to humor me on this.”

“You meant just take your word for it.” Levi doesn't even know what ‘it’ all means, but then there’s a weight on his knee. Erwin’s hand. It’s hot, heavy, promising.

“Yes.”

Levi remains still. It feels like his core has become that spot under Erwin’s palm. “And all I get is your fucking word that it’s going to make me a better fighter and get a big payout?”

The hand squeezes his knee at the choice of wording. Levi straightens, a little.

“Yes,” Erwin says.

The entire world’s axis has shifted to where Erwin’s hand creeps up his knee, by millimeters. It rests on tense muscles, and it’d be too easy for that one hand to bruise the tenderness of Levi’s skin. He thinks back to Erwin’s word for this. Unorthodox.

Levi can handle unorthodox.

Erwin’s free hand reaches forward, fingers expertly filing through the pages on the table until it tugs out the second to the last one. It’s positioned in front of Levi, which he glances at to see another space for his signature.

“It goes without saying that the only fighting you will do now is under my instruction.”

The severity in which he speaks is not unlike a warning. Levi’s eyes dart to the clock. It bothers him he almost put his fight tonight on the back burner, that Erwin has that effect at all on him. Levi brings his focus back quickly.

Erwin’s waiting.

The document waits too, and Levi looks it over. An official fighter, some real money coming in, more money that Isabel needs more than he needs it. But it was money coming later, so it meant one less fight Erwin doesn't need to know about for now.

Yet, as he lowers the pen, it’s Erwin’s hand in his hair, his breath on his neck, and fingers around his wrists he thinks about.

Levi will never admit his hand trembles, if only for a second, before he signs himself away to Erwin.

**-x-**

 

“Thank you for dinner,” Erwin says.

They’re back in the sanctuary of the car, heat amped up so Levi can wave his cold fingers over the steady stream of warmth. He shrugs off the gratitude; with the flux of money coming in, snatching away the bill to pay for it was the least Levi could do to settle his previous monetary deficit.

Better that than Erwin throwing more money for his sake.

“Not like you ate the entire menu,” Levi says. “It was nothing.”

It was over ‘nothing’ that Levi learned more about Erwin’s company and their fighters. Levi listened to stories of Mike’s success, of former champs and how the sport as a whole evolved over the last years to rake in the millions it now did. Erwin told all kinds of stories about all kinds of fighters. Levi even smirked a couple times at the scandals that had occurred amongst a few fighters, which now made for funny stories in retrospect to be told to a new recruit.

It was nothing short of bizarre how smooth their conversation picked up once the documents had been filed away, once Erwin’s hand had disconnected from Levi's knee and returned to the table.

But, occasionally, their legs bumped. And, more than occasionally, Levi snuck looks at Erwin’s hands, throat, and mouth.

“Still,” Erwin says, pulling them into traffic, “I’m grateful we could discuss what I couldn't bring up yesterday or even this morning.”

“Think you’d scare me off?”

“I don’t think you scare easily.”

“I don’t.”

Erwin nods. “I was more concerned you’d think I was out of my mind. I wanted to gain your trust, if only a little.”

“Ha.” Levi drops his hands from the dash vents, keeps them on his thighs. “You realize how fucked up all this is, don’t you?”

“Not exactly the word I’d use.”

Levi narrows both eyes at him. “You don’t curse? Or are you the type who only likes dirty talk in bed?”

Erwin’s jaw ticks, but Levi can’t tell if it’s from repressing a laugh or not.

“I’m not against cursing, if that’s what you mean.”

“Say ‘fuck’.”

“Fuck.”

Even curses sound appetizing off Erwin’s tongue.

“What would your mother say to you cursing like that,” Levi says, still watching Erwin. He’s proving more intriguing than the view of the city rushing by them. How a pampered brat developed into a former commander with a repertoire of controlled violence--Well, Levi doesn't care to dig into anyone’s past, curious or not.

Erwin hums at the comment, fingers tapping on the wheel. “Well, she can’t do much about it now but I’m sure she’d still scold me like I was a kid.”

“Trust fund baby.”

Erwin doesn't deny it. “Does it bother you?”

“That your parents kept a silver spoon in your mouth, or that you got money from doing a job for a sport that’s going to get me money too?” Levi shrugs a shoulder and rests his head on the window. It’s cool thanks to the frigid air. “No. It doesn't bother me.”

“If you win, you'll get the money.”

Levi inhales deeply. “I’ll win.”

Erwin’s hand comes toward him, slow enough not to startle Levi’s instincts into action. It lands on his thigh, this time higher up, like it belongs there.

“I know you will,” Erwin says.

Levi doesn't brush the hand off. He concentrates on it, vitalized by the feel of it and how it sends something ticklish through his skin.Then, slowly, curls his fingers around Erwin’s thick wrist.

“Your address,” Erwin says. Before Levi thinks against it, he adds, “I’m going to need it for your paperwork anyway.”

Levi bites his inner cheek.

The hand on his thigh tightens.

Levi tells him, and they ride like that, hand on thigh, past the colorful lights and beautiful people and to the streets with cracked bulbs and a few whores already loitering known spots for Johns. The few times Erwin removes his hand, it’s to better steer the wheel on a turn, and then it’s back home on Levi’s thigh. They don’t talk.

When they park in front of Levi’s building, there’s no one visible around. They're skulking in shadows and around corners, and not worth another thought, not when Erwin’s hand demands the bulk of Levi’s focus.

Erwin leans back and turns enough to face Levi better.

“I’ll contact you tomorrow,” Erwin tells him. “Then we’ll be on our way to preparing you for your first fight.”

There are plenty of questions in regards to that, but Levi abandons them and chases the ones that make him encourage Erwin’s hand to reach a little higher. It does, and yet Erwin doesn't bend forward. Any movement he makes is only in the way he massages Levi.

Levi breathes a little sharply when Erwin’s nails drag at his inner thigh. It spurns him into motion, and like a viper he’s launching forward, snagging the damn pristine collar of Erwin’s shirt, and yanking him down.

Their mouths hover millimeters from each other, but it’s not a sweet kiss Levi’s parched for.

Erwin’s hand moves, calm as fuck, from his thigh to his jaw. He plants his fingers as if there are molds meant for each finger’s placement. It’s hard to tell at this angle, but Levi swears his lips are tilted up.

The grip is firm on his jaw; Levi tests it and is rewarded with a familiar spike of pain. Erwin’s chuckle is a deep exhale below his ear. Levi tightens his hold on Erwin’s shirt, and, in a single, loud heartbeat, Erwin’s mouth is on him.

Bites cascade down his neck, work the point where it meets his shoulder, and a tongue drags along each assault. There’s hard kisses on his jaw, fingers forcing his head at the right angles that leave Levi hissing and his eyes fluttering shut.

He forces them back open and scrapes at Erwin’s shirt. They dig into fine fabric when Erwin’s mouth crashes with his own. They push against each other, and Levi’s not above biting, and when he’s too much, Erwin’s hand snakes into his hair and tugs him away, leaving his mouth parted open, fury cresting his expression.

And then Erwin’s at him again, working his tongue in after Levi challenges it. It all lasts seconds. It’s all it takes for Levi’s blood to pump as hard as he breathes, and for Erwin to slip loose a sound that sounds like a stifled groan when they break apart.

Their eyes meet. Levi can’t deny he feels smug at seeing a touch of color in Erwin’s cheeks, at the way he swallows like he’s exerting effort in restraint. It may not be, but Levi will remember it.

They both share a heavy exhale. The hand in Levi hair relaxes.

“Tomorrow then,” Erwin says, somehow deeper, thicker.

Levi pulls away gradually and rubs his jaw, making a point to not look Erwin in the eyes right now. Shit, even his legs feel wobbly right about now in the wake of Erwin’s kisses.

He has to clear his throat before he answers. “Yeah. Tomorrow. I’ll be ready.”

“Good.”

Levi manages to stop a shiver up his spine. If it weren't for tonight’s plans, he may have struggled more to open the door and get out. The cold sobers him up enough to regulate his breathing. He lingers at the door.

“Levi.”

Levi ducks to find Erwin’s eyes sharp again, collected and collar smoothed back into place. There’s a small regret that Levi hasn't done something to mark up the parts of his neck or ruin his hair.

“What?” he asks.

“Make sure you rest up tonight,” Erwin says, so intensely that, for a brash moment, Levi thinks he knows what he’s up to.

Levi grips the door and maintains his own composure.

“Right.”

Levi shuts the door and goes up the stoop. He’s tempted, but doesn't glance back as he unlocks the building’s door and hurries in.

**-x-**

 

In a building less chrome, less tall and more squat, wilted and peeling, Levi flexes his wrapped fingers and, again, thinks of the contour of Erwin’s shoulder. Broad, well trained, probably use to balancing the burden of the world. The way Erwin’s shirt had hugged them makes Levi think he gets his clothing tailored. He thinks of the authority of Erwin's kisses, how their presence linger as a tingle on Levi's lips. It’s a ridiculous thing to think over, but Levi allows it, just as he allows himself to revisit the entirety of what happened in the car as he rolls bandages onto his other hand.

His wrists, mottled blue from bruising, ache as he wraps them.

“You’re lookin’ distracted there.”

Levi snaps the wrap around his wrists tighter as he sees Pimp with a smile that says he’s ready to offer you the deal of a lifetime with the devil. That’s not the lout’s real name, but everyone calls him that and Pimp has always seemed proud of having the name of someone who gets by on other people’s work.

“Then you’re looking too hard,” Levi says.

“Can’t never look too hard at a fine product when I see one.”

Levi doesn't deign that with a response. Pimp’s the kind to try harder the more you resist, and he’s got the muscle (from others, of course) to subdue any fight you may have in you should  you get aggressive. Plus there's no point. Getting angry at Pimp is like getting angry at a spider for doing what it does naturally.

From his bag, Levi tugs out his knife, testing the weight out and solidifying it as an expansion of himself. It takes more effort than he likes to admit that Isabel wouldn't like seeing him use the gift Farlan gave him years ago the way he intends to tonight. It takes even more effort to not think what Erwin would say about it.

“Ya know, I’m still a little surprised you agreed,” Pimp says, watching Levi like he can’t decide if Levi’s an animal better to admire in the wild or hang him up in his house like the furs and ivory the guy no doubt owns. In a world of users and those used, Pimp just makes it better known what field he plays for. 

“You said five grand.” Levi narrows his attention on Pimp again, blade in hand, ready. “Or were you jerking me around?”

Pimp puts up his hand, a mockery of surrender. “Well, I wasn't entirely lying--”

“You _are not_ fucking kidding me--”

“Almost six now.”

Levi stares him down, and Pimp’s mouth spreads into a knowing grin. Then, Levi sneers, but zips up his bag before moderately entrusting it to Pimp. There’s nothing in there worth pinching, and Levi knows the guy’s on his side, if only in the spirit of gambling for Levi’s win.

A near six thousand win.

They make their way where the buzz of anticipation has been building since Levi got to the warehouse. He collects all thoughts of Erwin, of the fight with Mike, of everything, and forces them aside, mind washing out to a blank state. No hiccups tonight.

Fingering his knife, Levi feels the start of adrenaline waking up.

There’s no arena or ropes to mark off a fight, and instead of professional lighting they get the dingy glow of old lights that make everyone under them look sick. Even the crowd that’s gathered in the warehouse, long since neglected and claimed by a plethora of shady business do-ers, only serves as a marking point for where the fight starts, not where it ends.

There’s not really any cheering when Levi comes into view. Silence pushes down on the spectators and gamblers alike. All walks of a shitty life brought together like a cult to see one, maybe two, men get his.

“Good luck,” Pimp says, a firm atheist in luck.

Levi ignores him and finds his opponent already there. All Levi knew about him is that he’s been fighting abroad, and Levi doesn't ever want to know the complications of international fighting, or know the lowlives that indulge in it. But that’s hardly the troubling part.

His opponent’s a fucking kid. Barely older than Eren.

“The fuck is this?” Levi jerks his focus on Pimp for only half a second, but it’s all the opening the boy takes to come at him.

Levi sweeps away from a blow that was going right for his left eye, and his own fault for lowering his guard . No one’s going to stop this just because there’s a minor involved. If anything it raises the stakes and the fascination to see if a kid will die tonight, or reign victorious, if Levi has the evil in him to take someone so young down.

It’s sick.

Levi only needs one look and two close-calls to know he’s not fighting an amateur. There’s unleashed ferocity in the boy’s movements, spurned on by whatever promises someone’s been feeding this sad fuck to have him risk his life for a sum that says too much about how little people are really worth.

And if you’re not worth that sum, or want to quit, you do so with a knife to your chest.

Levi fights back.

The crowd’s different than back at the arena. Their encouragement is vile, harsh, and desperate. Levi’s learned to wash out their voices, but he can’t change the sickness clinging to the air. He’s use to it, and yet, all he feels is anger. He knows it in his avoidance of using his knife, playing on the defense instead, trying to disarm his opponent instead of going at his throat.

 _Shit_.

This isn't how it's supposed to go.

It’s Friday night all over again, like a curse. It’s that moment at the gym when Mike pinned him down. Levi hates it, all of it, and it’s Isabel and Farlan’s faces that haunt him when he bashes his fist into the kid’s kidney.

There’s a dull flash of light from a knife just before Levi feels a jab at his hip, and it’s a gut move that spares him from being impaled right then and there. He staggers back. He glances down. Blood’s been drawn, and it’s his.

There’s a heartbeat of a frozen moment as Levi sees his shirt soak the blood in. His eyes jump back to the boy, and, after one more heartbeat, Levi’s on him. The boy meets him halfway.

It's all action and no thought on Levi's part, and it costs him skin and more blood. The nest of emotions that’s contaminating the slate of his clear mind doesn’t let him feel the opening of new injuries whenever the kid gets him. Time’s irrelevant.

Then, Levi bashes the boy’s face into his knee. Something crunches. Levi feels the spike of pain from the knife clawing down his thigh in retaliation.

Levi drives his knee in again. The knife dislodges from his torn pants.

As soon as the boy crashes to the ground, Levi pins him with his legs. He’s thrown his own knife aside at some point, and he can’t remember why, and his hands are a mess. Two of his fingers throb like they were almost broken, but Levi doesn't remember that either.

The kid’s breathing is labored and sputtering. Blood hides most of what was once a strong nose and narrow jaw. One eye’s swollen shut, the good one glaring up at Levi and one hand grappling toward him. Even now he doesn't look scared, but Levi knows looks count very little on a person. On a child.

Levi’s in shit shape too. He’s feeling it as his breathing comes more evenly. He’s soaked from sweat and blood. He stares down at this young punk who should be sending stupid texts to his friends about his crush, studying for an exam, or bitching about curfew. He shouldn't be here, under Levi’s weight, about to lose a fight he wasn't far from winning himself.

The hand still reaches at Levi’s throat, while the other tries for the knife he’s lost.

Levi grabs one hand at a time.

He breaks them in ways they won’t ever fight again.

Screams, moans, curses. A familiar anthem that carries through the warehouse and robs the crowd of their breath. 

Slowly, Levi stands. He feels like days have passed, and everything before can easily be mistaken as a dream. He peers down at his hand, where the bandages of his right hand have shredded into ribbons. He makes out Erwin’s bruising against the pale of his skin tone. The boy’s blood trickles over it. 

Eren has always wanted to see his fights, misguided in his attempt to glorify what Levi does. There’s no glory in pummeling a kid under your fists, of tattooing skin and bone with the evidence of Levi’s assault. 

Levi drops his hand, exhausted. Silent, he retrieves his knife, ignoring the way the spectators have detached from the scene, grumbling and whispering as if Levi can't hear them.  He treads over to where Pimp’s smiling, holding out a towel. Levi takes it and wipes off what he can.

“That was low even for you,” Levi tells Pimp. It comes out in a croak.

“Hey, I didn’t have anything to do with getting the kid involved. An associate did. Plus, the little shit’s not innocent. No one is. Though you sure ruined his career.”

Career. Levi can’t even muster the energy to snort his disgust at that.

“And it’s not like you held back,” Pimp says, amused.

Levi chucks the towel for it to be burned with any other shit Pimp burns after fights. He’s paranoid like that, wanting no crumb or speck of blood to point any fingers their way. Levi can tolerate paranoid. His clothes will be next, after he’s ducked away to change into something with less tears and blood on them.

Pimp’s rambling on about the fight, but Levi doesn’t listen as he temporarily mends the worst of his injuries. He can manage the rest at his place, far away from here, where this restless fatigue will be his alone to bear.

Levi pockets his knife. "I'm done," he says.

One of Pimp’s goons hands Levi’s bag to him, weighted down with the night’s wins. Looking at it doesn't assuage anything inside of Levi. In some ways, he's not so different from a street worker whose detached themselves for just another job, another payout until the next one.

Levi reaches for his bag, but Pimp grabs it quick and steps back, frowning.

“You’re done?” Pimp asks.

Levi just looks at him.

“ _Done_ done?” 

Levi opens his raw palm out to take his bag.

Pimp holds it tighter. “You can’t be serious. You just won over five tonight! You just won me twice that. We got a great partnership, you and I. Look, I won't try slipping you an all-out again, yeah? Come on." Pimp's laugh is like the scratch of dry, dead leaves. "You can’t just _quit._ ”

Levi yanks his bag free and hoists it over his aching shoulder. The pain doesn’t feel comforting at all. He steps up to Pimp, just enough so his lackeys won’t make a swing at him, but enough so Pimp catches the hardness under his dry voice.

“We’re not partners.”

It's a long ride on an empty subway to his place, and a longer walk up flights of stairs. He's woozy when he stumbles into his shower and woozier still when he patches himself up after the fact. He’s lost his appetite but drinks something to prevent fainting, then washes the glass. He stashes the money, lobs his bag into a closet, and crumbles into his bed.

The adrenaline’s gone and the exhaustion makes itself known that much more. Levi’s eyes burn, but he acts on an impulse to drag his phone off the nightstand. He scrolls over to Erwin’s name. He stares at it, thumbing the start of a message. He's already lost the feel of Erwin's mouth on his.

The message never writes itself. Levi puts his phone back on the side table before facing his back to it, staring at the wall until the nightmares finally find him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a longer wait to post this. I rewrote the chapter because the first two drafts were (in my opinion) too rushed and blah :( I appreciate the patience and support so very much!
> 
> Thank you again for the amazing feedback and sticking with the story ♥


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He snatches Erwin’s hair and jerks him down so their mouths crash.

 

Levi wakes to the god-awful cacophony of his ringtone. It’s one of those standard ones that come on the phone, loud, piercing, and getting the job done to startle him out of what was already a bad sleep. There’s a moment of his hand blindly smacking around until he’s got it pressed to his ear, eyes still shut and head cocooned under the blanket.

“What.” He sounds as shitty as he feels, with a nice coat of grogginess that can excuse his crappiness for sleepiness.

“It sounds like I woke you.”

Levi’s eyes snap open. In his fatigue, he figured the caller must have been Eren or Mikasa as they are the only ones who regularly bother with his number nowadays. A quick recap on the day reminds Levi it’s a school day, and the sun’s fingers creeping through gaps in his blinds tells of the early hour.

There’s little time to think more on it, lest he leave Erwin hanging on the other line. Levi scrubs his face and rolls onto his back, blanket thrown off his upper body.

“It’s fine,” he says. Not like he was going to feel any better in bed. “What do you want?”

“Good news. The paperwork’s processing. I’d like you to come by my work so we can tie a few loose ends.”

Levi internally curses and presses the heel of his hand hard against his brow.The bastard is too productive and efficient for Levi’s good. When Erwin said he’d call him, he figured it meant to set up a later time, and certainly not today, barely over twelve hours since they’d parted ways after a kiss that was definitely not a product of a dream.

Levi’s heart beats faster.

“Isn’t there other paperwork you need to be buried under on a Monday?” Levi asks.

Erwin’s light chuckle is sobering. Levi lets his eyes shut as he listens to that rumble of the deep voice.

“I told you, I’m good at my job. I’d rather get things moving along so we can start your training sooner than later.” There’s a pause that makes Levi’s stomach do a slow flip. “It’s not like you have that 7-days-a-week-million-paying job to get to anyway?”

In one line, Erwin effectively shut down any excuses Levi may have contemplated trying out. Not that he would have humored any of them. He isn’t afraid of Erwin, and it’s still his life to do as he wishes. Then there’s the memory of Erwin’s mouth and hands on him, and it’s all the pathetic lure Levi needs to know he’ll show up at whatever hour Erwin wants.

Levi drops his arm back to the bed. It feels like lead beside his head.

“Funny,” he replies, with a dry tone. “Fine. Yeah. Sooner the better. When?”

“Around one in the afternoon. I can send someone to pick you up.”

“No,” Levi says, firm and quick. “Just give me the address.”

Erwin does, and his voice fills the space above Levi’s bed once he’s put the man on speaker to type the address into his phone for later usage. He tries not to think on Erwin being above him in any sense, but he’s half-asleep and while his lips may no longer tickle, he still has those memories, and it will take more than shit sleep to keep him from revisiting them.

However, he does take Erwin off speaker when he’s done. He doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t completely like Erwin seeping into the privacy of his apartment, even if only in voice.

“Got it,” Levi says, and then, hangs there, staring up at the ceiling. He wants to just hang up, and yet he’s not. It’s a stupid problem, but it aggravates him all the same. 

“Well,” Erwin’s voice trails off a moment, “I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah.” Levi’s fingers resist pulling the phone away.

“Good-bye, Levi.”

Levi presses his lips together, then makes himself return the sentiment before Erwin’s voice is gone and it’s easier to slap his phone back on the side table. The silence crushes him in the wake of the call, and it isn’t until a blare of the day’s nth siren, that Levi drags himself to sit up.

Everything hurts more than he likes. His fingers ache, but there’s no swelling or discoloration. The same can’t be said for the rest of him, he assumes. He rips his blankets off to invite the cold, which makes him shuffle to the bathroom quicker and calculate the severity of each ache and whether it leaves him limping.

It doesn’t, for the most part. He’s definitely had worse, though the mirror spits back the image of him as a ghost. The molts of purple pale his already light complexion, with only the streaks and patches of dried red adding color to him. At the least, the worst of it can be hidden under clothing. The winter’s handy for something.

Levi exhales and washes up.

The morning’s dedicated to patching himself up and piecing together a picture of humanity again. When he’s done, he’s not feeling any better, but hardly worse. He’s never thought feeling human ever meant anything good anyway.

While the tea brews, he looks at the place he’s hid the money, almost considering counting his win to ensure he hasn’t been swindled. In the end, he pads away from it and makes breakfast. In the background, the T.V. drones because if it doesn’t, Levi doesn’t trust what his mind will do.

Beat up or not, Levi doesn’t let it disrupt his routine. As he settles on the couch with tea on the coffee table and bowl of breakfast in hand, he thinks he’ll clean the bathrooms today after he’s done with whatever ‘loose ends’ Erwin has to tie.

It’s a little difficult to believe his routine is about to shift, all because of a meeting at a club, like the start of some awfully written romance novel. Of course, there’s a lack of romance in Levi’s life (and shall remain that way). For now, he’s got the romance covered in the soap opera playing to appeal to the housewives while they mill about their home. Housewives and Levi, it seems, because while he will never confess it, it’s a distraction he’s watched periodically when his mind feels like it can’t fit right in his head.

It’s a crappy show, naturally, but it’s moderately entertaining in its crappiness, and far better than the drama Levi’s mind is capable of when he’s feeling this particularly shitty. He’s no quack and doesn’t plan to waste funds on one, but he figures clinging to last night won’t do him any good. He turns up the volume.

As he eats, he doesn’t think about anything more than what the show gives him, and right now it’s the audacity of the lead’s twin taking over his brother’s life, and all the riches and women it comes with. It’s really just a domino effect of coincidences set up to expose the evil twin, so far from reality that Levi can forget his own, if only for a moment.

Of course, that’s when his phone goes off again. Levi sighs and lowers his breakfast.

This time, he checks the number and doesn’t recognize it. Probably against his better judgment and certainly not on the ridiculous hope that it’s Erwin’s office, he answers.

“Hello?”

**“Mr. Jaeger?”**

Levi blinks at his phone.

“What?"

**“Is this not Mr. Jaeger?”**

Levi can hear the severity and underlined disappointment in the woman’s tone, reserved for those exhausted souls that work with the troubled youth of the city. A cop, maybe?

“Who wants to know?” he asks.

**“The Vice Principal of Maria High School.”**

Eren and Mikasa’s school.That’s all the data Levi needs to work out the kinks of this sudden call, even before V.P. lady introduces herself (Levi doesn’t commit her name to memory) and mentions that Eren’s been pulled into her office for assaulting another student.

Two of Levi’s fingers rub his temple.

The little shit.

“He attacked another student?” Levi asks, curious and yet internally telling himself to shut the fuck up and stop asking questions. Also, he never has confirmed he’s Mr. Jaeger and wonders if the V.P. would even really care. Best not to find out.

 **“We’re still working out the details,”** she says, **“on who threw the first punch, but it seems it was an argument that escalated into a fight.”**

Levi can only fathom the expression on Eren’s face, or the way he must be fidgeting in his seat as the V.P. made a call to the man that was not his father. He won’t put it past Eren or Mikasa to not even know where the father-of-the-year is right now.

 **“I understand this is an inconvenience,”** the V.P. goes on, **“but before you come sign him out, I’d like to have a word with you, with Eren present.”**

Right. Levi rolls his eyes, and braces himself. He exhales, already knowing he’s about to agree to make his morning that much worse. And for what?

“I...understand,” Levi finally says, “but first, put Eren on the line. Just for a second.”

She seems all too eager to pass the phone over, and Levi can tell when Eren picks it up because the breathing is deeper like their owner hasn’t come down from the euphoria of a fight.

 **“Um, hi...Dad,”** Eren says, voice tattered and meak. Levi isn’t sure if it’s an act or not.

“Hey, moron,” Levi says, none too gently but not loudly. “She wants me to come down.”

**“...Yeah.”**

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

**“I...uh…well, it wasn’t my fault. He-!”**

No use. Eren’s stumbling over his own tongue and just about as ready to set off like a firework thanks to his temper. Levi rubs his temple harder.

“Has your old man ever been to your school?” Levi asks.

**“No.”**

“They don’t know what he looks like?”

**“No…”**

Levi shuts his eyes and settles his breathing. On the line, he can hear Eren tapping on the phone and there’s a rustling like he keeps passing it from one ear to the other.

“ **Er...Dad?”**

God damn it.

Levi opens his eyes.

“I’ll be right there."

 

**-x-**

Eren and Mikasa’s school is as inspirational to a young mind as a turd . The building’s tall, boring as a rectangle can be, and stacked with bricks that have either cracked from time or shone with new coats of paint that wiped out gang names or crude graffiti. Given your position in the city and the angle in which you view the building, you may mistake the school for a prison.

The kids probably don’t see much a difference in that.

Worse, it’s infested with said kids on their first break of the day, some who are no doubt on the right trajectory to a prison. Levi ignores all of them, and can’t do anything about the fact that a handful of them are heads taller than he is. It’s an atmosphere he isn’t familiar with since having been ‘homeschooled’ (laughable and not memories worth revisiting), so much charged energy and malaise in one spot that it keeps him tense by default.

He doesn’t deviate and finds the office easily, and quickly. Outside of it, there’s a tall girl with freckles that gives him a once-over, then smirks and says something to a petite blonde at her side. Whatever it is, it makes the blonde flush, and makes Levi march faster. Fucking teenagers.

Just before he reaches for the disgusting handle, Mikasa’s in his personal bubble, eyes wide.

“Levi. Eren--" she breaks off, taking in his demeanor. "Your face-”

Levi curses and steps back. “Eren called me,” he offers in explanation.

Because Mikasa’s smart, she catches on and nods, though not looking too fond of the idea. She glances toward the office, then back at Levi. She won’t say anything about his state of disarray.

“Jean said something and Eren couldn’t let it go,” she says, a modicum of her irritation evident, though whether at Eren, at the kid who fought with Eren, or the fact she isn’t granted access into the office, Levi doesn’t know.

He studies her a moment, and sees the dip in her shoulders as she peers back at the window of the office door that blurs the images of its occupants inside. Her eyes dart as though she is sure she’ll recognize Eren’s blur when she sees it.

Levi sighs and gently nudges her away from the door. “Get all your stuff.”

“What?” She looks at him again.

“I have to sign the idiot out when all’s said and done. Might as well sign your ass out too.”

She frowns.

“Do you want me to or not?” Levi says, harder.

At that, she straightens, then nods once, but firm. Then, just before she hurries off to grab her things, she hesitates.

“Thank you.” It’s barely audible under the cachinnation of teenagers.

Levi just watches her go before finally, at long last, stepping into the office.

Inside, it’s loud in a different way, with a clack of keyboards and a perpetual gurgling of what must be coffee brewing somewhere. There’s a portly man who greets him, then stares at his face. Levi ignores it and states his business before he’s lead to an office in the back. This guy looks a coffee away from a heart attack, his nerves frayed by the chaos only teenagers and their hormones can bring. Levi can’t get out of here soon enough.

At least he’s guided straight to the back once he dons on the facade of Mr. Jaeger. Which is really no different than his usual look.

The man knocks on a door and pokes his head in, and then he’s gone, soon replaced by a woman Levi assumes is the vice principal.

“Dr. Jaeger?” she says, stopping when she takes in his demeanor, his face, and whatever bad vibes Levi is giving off without necessarily meaning to.

“Yeah.”

“You’re Mr. Jaeger. Eren and Mikasa’s father?”

“That’s who Dr. Jaeger would be, wouldn’t it?” Levi says. He has no plans to remark on the lack of resemblance, daring her to question his authenticity. With adopted and mixed kids rampant now, it’s all the credibility he’s gambling on right now. That, and he showed up. Not the same can be said for most fathers.

She rakes her gaze over him. Though she’s not judging prematurely, her suspicions rattle Levi’s insides.

“Thank you for calling me,” he adds, clipped and polite. He knows how to play the game, and, despite almost cringing, offers his hand. “I know I’m a bit roughed up right now.”

V.P. still stares at his face, though she shakes his hand in a firm grip.

“I’m sorry, but if I may ask--”

“Got mugged,” is all Levi says, with a shrug. It’s a believable story, given how easily most people write him off from one look alone.

“I see. That’s awful.” Whether she’s convinced or not, Levi doesn’t give a rat’s ass, so long as she knows her business only extends into Eren’s territory, not whether or not his ‘dad’ had a rough night. “Well, I’m sorry to worsen your week with the call then.”

Levi doesn’t have to try hard to look like the pissed off parent as he’s waved into her office. In here, it’s quiet, and Eren’s sitting much like a dunce in a corner would. All that is missing is the hat. He’s got a matching cuff to his cheek though, and one eye’s gone a little purple

Eren’s body tenses when he spots Levi, and his mouth drops when he too notices the healing wounds on his face. One hard look keeps him from blurting out questions. Eren shifts and looks straight ahead as Levi takes the seat next to him, in front of the squat desk.

“Thank you for coming,” V.P. says. “Eren tells me you’re a doctor.”

Hence the ‘doctor’ honorific in Dr. Jaeger, Levi wants to snap back. A bite of his tongue and a reminder he’s not here to get Eren dragged into social services keeps him in check. He knows her game, trying to pry without sounding as though she is.

Levi nods.

“If I may, what field?”

It stings something deep inside to think of Isabel and the neurobiologist who has given him so much data that Levi thinks he can pretend to understand it. “Neurology.”

“Dad usually works late hours,” Eren throws in, eyes a little wide with his apprehension. The kid probably doesn’t realize he’s doing it. He lowers his eyes and deflates into himself.

Levi peeks back to V.P., whose gaze has softened. Levi almost laughs. Fucking brat playing along, unaware of how much of a pro he is at it. Eren rides the tides of his emotions though, and seems capable of sweeping up people along with it. Levi hopes the V.P. stays stuck on it long enough to let them leave unscathed.

V.P. clears her throat and says, “We understand that both parties are at fault for the fight. Apparently, some words were thrown and Eren reacted to them. We don’t know who threw the first punch.”

A side look tells Levi that it was Eren who did it, but he’s also got an eye for that kind of thing. Where a musician may pick out another musician from their hands, Levi does something similar for violence.

“Where’s the other kid?” Levi asks, eyes drifting to the certificates mounted on the wall. Nothing about being a child shrink, at least.

“Jean. His parents already came and took him.”

That kid again? For all the douchery Eren claims the boy to possess, he certainly involves himself with said douche a lot.

“How bad did he look?” Levi asks instead.

“Pardon?” Her eyes jump from Levi to Eren, back again.

Levi wants to sag in his seat and roll his eyes. He does neither. “The other kid. Was he badly hurt?”

“About as much as Eren.”

Eren mutters something in protest to that, and Levi kicks him in the ankle for it. The V.P.’s eyes widen, but Levi just stares at her. He’s playing a parent. A little corporal punishment is justified.

“Fine. Then I’ll just take Eren home and punish him as I see fit.” He hopes it’s enough, and was careful not to word it like a question. He knew long ago never to give someone the opportunity to shut you down or worse.

She delays though. A lot. Before Levi processes it, she’s  talking about all kinds of shit Levi doesn’t really pay much attention to. There’s mentioning of Eren’s potential as a great student, how his passion can propel him to heights he can’t yet fathom, all the familiar slop this poor woman’s has fed countless other troublemakers. In the end, it really means nothing, and only leaves Levi antsy and wondering how many times he would have been called to the office.

Just as the air in the office becomes stultified, the banality of all it ends with a few closing words from Eren agreeing with her and making vows he probably won’t keep. Levi can’t stand soon enough and shake the V.P.’s hand before he’s finally out of the room.

At the front of the office, where other students wait for one reason or another, Mikasa sits. A brunette’s chatting to her a mile a minute, all with a mouth full of food. Levi doesn’t have to say anything to have her sever ties with the conversation. She’s on Eren in an instant, frowning and looking ready to sigh.

“He should have kept his mouth shut,” Eren says to her as defense for his side. “I would have made him keep his mouth shut if you hadn’t pulled me back.”

Levi ignores the brewing bickering and approaches the desk where the waddling man no longer waddles, but sits. Even that looks exhausting.

“I’m supposed to check them out here,” Levi says, jerking his finger toward the two teens now in his possession.

There’s a pause as the guy looks over at Mikasa, factoring her into the equation.

“You’re checking them both out?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” the guy sounds genuinely surprised. “Why her?”

“Because I’m their damn father that’s why,” Levi says, and is moderately pleased that his tone ruffles the attendant. Maybe they will be less inclined to pull Eren in if they know his father isn’t one you want to have called into the office.

There’s barely a beat wasted until Levi’s signing out the kids and they’re taking a route less congested by crowds. It’s warmed up, barely so, and Levi scowls at the time. He’ll have time for a meal and nothing else before he has to meet Erwin.

“So…”

At Eren’s voice, Levi shoves his phone back into his pocket. He doesn’t look back at either of them as he leads the way to their building. At the least, they’re not bitching anymore about Eren’s lack of control.

“What happened?” Eren asks, too easily swallowing Levi’s pace with his own so he can look at the man. “You look...kind of bad.”

“Just a fight. Someone did try to mug me.”

“You’re the one who once said a mugger should be more afraid of you than the other way around.” That’s Mikasa, sharper than most people must give her credit for, and with a tongue as bad as Eren’s when she lets it be.

Levi makes a face at them and regains authority of the conversation. “What the fuck are you doing fighting with this kid?”

Levi’s instinct proves correct; Eren’s face hardens and he snorts, jerking his head away like he needs the moment to recover thinking about Jean. “He’s a snob,” Eren says.

“A snob that goes to that shitty school?”

“He says he’s being put in private soon.”

Levi knows better than to open the gates for that flood. Teenage drama is beyond his limits, and any drama Eren cooks up is of the disastrous sort. Still, he can’t not say something.

“Maybe think before you do stupid crap like that,” Levi tells him, both of them. “If not for prolonging your own life, think about the burden it puts on other people. Like me.”

“Oh.” Eren’s clearly never considered the full extent of his behavior. Not surprising. Teenagers are the worst little shits out there. Levi’s glad he hasn’t been one for a good while. “Sorry...I mean, thank you though. You really...you know.”

“Thank you,” Mikasa adds, and Levi believes her tone, subtle and quiet as it is.

He glances at them, tempted to ask where their damn caretaker is. A fruitless question, and one with many raw feelings if prodded, so he just walks down the street with a couple of teens. They must make the picture of no good.

And, of course, it’s too much to hope the shift in topic has Eren’s attention deviated from his earlier question.

“It looks like a bad fight,” Eren says, a little quieter.

Levi chokes the image of the fighter from last night. A kid as old as Eren.

“Yeah,” is all Levi gives him. He’s done wasting lies on a couple of brats for the day.

Funny enough, it keeps them quiet all the way to the apartment building. Inside, Levi waits by the stairs as Mikasa grabs the mail, then they’re all mounting the steps in tandem. Levi hears Mikasa filing through the envelopes, and a lag in her steps has Levi peek back.

She’s holding a letter than doesn’t last long in her grip. Eren sees the name and snatches it from her grip, stopping their ascent as he tears into the paper. There’s a smile gracing his lips, hopeful, and his eyes go wide as he devours the contents of the letter.

Levi watches it all crash and burn. The smile dies, and the eyes harden. Mikasa doesn’t look at the letter, seeming to read its message straight off Eren’s expression. She lowers her gaze, then focuses back on Eren.

Then, Eren crumbles the paper, chucks it at the ground, and storms up the remaining flight of stairs. Levi almost curses after him on impulse.

“He’s not coming home,” Mikasa says, though Levi can’t tell if it’s for his benefit. She balances her backpack and plucks the letter, smoothing it back out, though it’s going to be tossed away anyway. “He’ll be late with money for a few more days.”

Levi stays quiet. Gradually, Mikasa walks after Eren, and Levi follows.

The apartment to the Jaegers is already unlocked, and Levi doesn’t doubt if Eren didn’t have a key he may have just bulldozed through it by force. The boy’s on the couch, stiff despite reclining back in it, his backpack neglected by the entrance.

Levi picks it up and hangs it before inspecting the kitchen.

“I don’t even miss him anymore,” Eren says. “I don’t care if he never comes back.”

“You don’t mean that,” Mikasa says.

“I do!”

“Hey.” Levi’s tone isn’t loud, but it’s the right strength to pull Eren’s attention on him. “Watch the shit you say.”

“I don’t care if he comes back!”

Levi shuts the fridge door and strides over, grimacing at the way Eren tenses even more, as if expecting Levi’s default response to be physical harm against him. Levi can’t change that, but he does lean forward and makes sure Eren is holding his eyes before speaking.

“You don’t say shit like that,” Levi says. “People die all the time, and for the stupidest things, things out of their control. Could have done everything right and still get knocked down. So you watch your mouth when you talk like that, because you can hate your dad all you want, but you hope he stays alive, because you might not know how much it hurts when he’s gone. Even if it’s only because you couldn’t say all the damn things you wanted to say to his face before you tell him to fuck off. You got it?”

The words cling to the air, and for a moment, Levi thinks he’s allowed a peep into his own world. It’s a fleeting concern, gone once Eren grits his teeth and breaks eye contact with Levi. His shoulders go soft and he sniffs.  

“I just...wish mom was still around,” he says. He fists his hands, and Levi thinks he’s breaking skin with his nails. Where tears once flowed, anger bubbles inside Eren. A phenomenon that’s more like a plague around here.

Mikasa rests her hand on Eren’s knee, but remains quiet. It’s a ritual between them, her silent acknowledgement and contact, and Eren’s internal monologuing. Levi doesn’t intrude, and instead leans back away, but lingering.

He’s surprised when he hears Eren sniff louder.

“You ever just...miss someone so much you dream about them and wake up sick because they aren’t there?” It’s a question Eren doesn’t expect him to answer, and yet there’s hope lining his voice. But he’s a kid who's dealt with too much, and Eren catches himself fast before scrubbing at his eyes as if it’s allergies that got the better of him.

Levi doesn’t know how he would have answered that, if at all. Yet his heart aches all the same as if he has, and his eyes feel so much more tired now. Loss shouldn’t feel so physical.

“Thanks for coming,” Eren says after another sniff, clearing his throat, seeming to force himself to look at Levi to appropriately convey his gratitude. “Sorry. Been a crap day is all.”

It’s an open-ended sorry, and Levi takes it, if only so it’ll quell Eren. When he walks past the couch, he puts his hand on Eren’s head and gives it a light shove.

“Stay out of trouble. I’ll bring dinner tonight.”

Eren doesn’t know just how much of a crap day it’s been, so much so that when Levi goes back to his place across the hall, he’s more exhausted than he felt this morning.

He buckles onto the couch and closes his eyes.

**-x-**

_Damn it._

Levi can’t recall the last time he had a litany of curses as graphic as the ones playing through his mind. They would be under his breath too, but he needs that to keep up with his pace. The nap came upon him unexpectedly, and now he’s running, literally, late to Erwin’s company. That’s even with a cab, but thanks to the damn lunch crowd, he ended up chucking some cash over and hopping out in the middle of the street to close the distance himself by foot.

Thank anything good that the building wasn’t too hard to pinpoint, though there was a lag in squeezing between bodies to reach the entrance, which is equally congested with people. Erwin’s company shares a building with others, even though they own a good chunk of the floors, so Levi utilized his stature to shimmy by and then haul ass up the stairs to the fourth floor.

By the time he’s there, he has to lean against a wall and compose himself.

Seriously a shit day.

Muscles and aches that tingled in the morning now throb from the exertion, and it takes Levi several moments more than he likes to keep himself from wincing when he finally enters the company’s ground floor. One look confirms that the place rakes in good money, if the flat-screen televisions (that broadcast news or recent fights) mounted have anything to say about it. Even the pillars and walls look sleek like they’ve been lavished in in liquid pearls. The whole floor is polished with modern trimmings, and the receptionist Levi walks up to looks young and vibrant with energy.

Despite the fancy updo of the floor, the few people Levi sees aren’t too dolled up. He feels less out of place noticing them as he states his business, to which her energy bumps up a few notches.

“Ah, you,” her voice lowers conspiratorially,  “must be the mysterious fighter-in-question.”

“Words spreads fast,” Levi says, not really caring.

She has to lean forward over the lip of the counter to take in all of Levi’s short presence. She seems pleased, and even smirks his way. Levi lets her get her eyeful, but says, “Is everyone going to be looking at me like that?”

“Depends,” she says, smiling apologetically and settling back down. “If--”

“There he is!”

The voice thunders over the entire floor, making the hair on the back of Levi’s neck rise. Instinct has him spin around because there was definitely a frayed fanaticism in the tone that he has yet to experience coming from another person’s mouth.

He spots the source fast, like finding a boulder coming your way.

Too late, there’s a face invading his space, a hand grabbing his, shaking too quickly, and a grin that has Levi’s skin lose a shade of what pitiful color he had to begin with.

“I knew you the moment I saw you! I was worried you wouldn’t show, but no, I knew when I saw you that you were the new fighter. Oh, look at the strength in your small hands. Oh, and your face…!”

It’s not the first time someone’s been up in Levi’s business, but it’s the first time it’s not to physically suppress him, and it’s the first time anyone’s openly gawked at him with admiration and delight that surpasses Eren and Isabelle. It’s unnatural.

Levi jerks his hand free and staggers back, right into a familiar block of muscle and warmth.

He tilts his head up.

Erwin smiles down at him.

“I see Hange found you before I could.”

Then, the smile wanes quickly, and Levi realizes that Erwin must have noticed the discoloration on his cheek and eye. Levi’s tired enough not to give a damn about it and enough to be tempted to linger against the girth that is Erwin’s chest. It’s not for long because Hange crowds him again, right into Erwin. The older man steadies Levi by the shoulders, heavy hands that ground him and yet warns him of the talking to that will come later.

As if the day couldn’t make itself worse.

“This...is the doctor,” Levi says, tensing as Hange steps back. He doesn’t trust that they won’t lurch at him again.

“Ah, yes,” Hange says. “That’s me. Sorry about that. I’ve heard promising things. I will be your physician for as long as you’re with us.” Hange extends their hand, smiling, waiting. The sudden shift to patience leaves Levi suspicious. Gradually, he takes the other’s hand.

Erwin’s hand is still on his shoulder.

“I’m Levi.” He says it like he’s expecting his name to be tainted by Hange’s usage of it.

“Yes, I know.” Hange’s squeeze is polite, and they let go after an appropriate amount of time passed. “Erwin’s told me all about you. Well, not all. I hope to know more about you in my own time

They grin and nod, as if prepared for the journey they and Levi, unwillingly, are about to set a course for. A very long, arduous course.

“Hange’s the best,” Erwin says, his hand detaching from Levi. “Not a thing will go unnoticed.”

It sounds more like a threat. Levi doesn’t look at him.

Erwin starts talking logistics but Hange waves him off into silence, like they’ve done it countless times before. Interesting. More so, Erwin seems to not be offended by it.

“Oh, let’s not bother with that boring stuff,” Hange says. “No, right now I’d really love to do a physical exam right away. We don’t need to exchange so many pleasantries.”

Levi’s mind halts, backpedals, and repeats what was said. He almost whips his head to Erwin on reflex, but catches himself. “Physical exam?”

Hange has his full attention again by way of voice and and steering Levi by the shoulder. “Of course. I need to have all your stats to know where you’re at, how you improve, all that sort of stuff. Don’t worry. I’m thorough, but gentle. You won’t even feel the needles when we get to that part.”

Levi’s stunned, barely recognizing being guided into what is, too conveniently, a room that resembles a doctor’s. Though it’s shaped like a spacious office, it’s been decked out with trinkets and an arsenal of things people don’t want to be prodded and poked with. There’s even one of those tables with paper to sit on. Was all this brought here today or is it a permanent fixture in the decor?

Seeing the table kicks Levi out of his stupor.

“Wait,” he turns, seeing Erwin invite himself into the room as well. Of course he would. “I didn’t know there was an exam today.”

Hange laughs. “It’s not like you have to study for it. I’ll be doing all the work.”

Levi looks over at Erwin, only a moment as not to set off any alarms as to how much he doesn’t want the other man around right now. However, Hange seems to have analyzed and committed some of his gestures to memory, because they smile and say, none too quietly, “He’s your trainer. Of course he’s going to know all about your physical status. You’ll get use to it.”

“I didn’t take you for being modest,” Erwin says, sounding far too amused for someone swathed in whatever brand name he’s wearing. But it’s a grain of amusement balanced atop the heap of whatever else he’s feeling about the scuffs on Levi’s face.

“I’m not.” Levi stares at the table, then flicks his eyes to every movement Hange makes. They’re actually humming as they gather one thing after the other. A gown that looks better made than a hospital’s is placed on the table. The color is the same shade’s as Isabel’s.

Levi blurs out her image and puts the time into thinking.

At the end of all of his mulling, he has nothing. At least, nothing sufficient, and, yet again, he feels the need to remind himself that last night was his business. Fuck everything else.

So, and he will never say anything about the faint quiver in his fingers, he peels off the two layers he’s got over his upper body. He knows it’s a bad move before he’s tugged the shirt over his head. Hange’s intake of breath is nothing compared to the pressure of Erwin’s silence.

But Levi can’t allow it to affect him. He kicks off everything, and despite all his efforts, can’t stop thinking how the first time Erwin’s getting a view of his backside is in the least arousing situation ever. Levi may be quick about taking the gown and wrapping it around him before he hoists himself up onto the table like he’s not accessorized with the gems of violence. One look is all it will take for Erwin to conclude they’re from a fight. Levi doesn’t meet his gaze.

It’s the smallest blessing that Hange obstructs the view swiftly, their amazement vivid down to the very way they handle the stethoscope. At least someone looks happy about this.

“My goodness. What a sight. These must be the freshest. No, this one. Incredible,” Hange says. They devour the sight of Levi in a far different way than he thought Erwin was going to the night before. “Pity. I should have asked Erwin to have you fast, but we can do bloodwork tomorrow morning. For now, I’m doing to do a thorough exam and ask you some questions, alright?”

“Yeah.” Levi doesn’t know why they tell him, but it’s a courtesy he supposes he can appreciate. Where he’s from, no one gives you the heads up before they do anything.

Hange’s smile softens, and, with a snap of a glove, they get to work.

For all their quirk, Hange is no doctor for the mere sake of wanting to prod higher pedigrees of the human body. They’re mindful with their examination, and ask questions that don’t leave Levi’s stomach squirming (is this injury less than twenty-four hours old? does this hurt? how so? can you stretch your arms with the bruise? what’s your intake on vitamins? do you drink caffeine?). Gloved hands handle him with delicacy, and not out of pity. There’s weight and height measured, the latter lower than Hange seems to approve of. Blood pressure’s measured, orifices are inspected, and reflexes tested.

Not once does Hange pry into the possible tales behind Levi’s wounds. From the way they sweep their fingers over them and nod, Levi figures they can figure it out on their own just fine, or they don’t particularly care beyond the science of them. Each new finding seems to elevate Hange’s mood, a stark contrast to the atmosphere in the room.

Erwin gets up at some point, and Levi grips the edge of the table hard. He avoids the man’s face entirely, and refuses to say anything as Erwin observes behind Hange. He also studies the notes Hange writes, and doesn’t ask any questions. Levi’s skin crawls.

Eventually, Hange whirls around and flails a hand while scolding until Erwin sits back down and stops deterring the doctor’s focus. Any other day, Levi might have smirked at that. Today, he bites on his tongue.

“Ah,” Hange sighs once it’s just them and Levi again, “I can’t wait to see your progress, Levi. You’re the picture of overall decent health so far, but there’s room to maximize your potential. Tomorrow the blood samples and then monitoring your vitals during training.”

Levi shifts on the table. “Is there anything you won’t be doing to me?”

Hange laughs again. “We’ll find out, won’t we? Whatever I’m not doing, I’m sure Erwin will be.”

 _Ha, you don’t even know_. Levi keeps this thought secure in the corner of his mind. He’s not about to ask if Hange is aware of Erwin’s plans on ‘training’ Levi.

“So we’re done?” Levi asks.

“Just about.” Hange’s got another clipboard this time. “I went over Erwin’s dietary plans. They’ll do you good. But is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“Like?”

Hange lifts both shoulders half-heartedly, but their frown is sincere. “I’m not just your physician, you know. I also care about your mental state.”

“Are you saying you’re a shrink?”

“No, but if you ever feel anything funny, strange, what have you, I should be on speed dial. You’d be surprised how many depressed people are spotted by physicians.”

“I’m not fucking depressed.”

Hange seems a bottomless void for vigor and enthusiasm, because they’re not put off by Levi’s tone or the face he pulls, and instead look elated to be working with him. Hange supplies their number all the same and a wealth of gauze and creams and other shit that Levi needs to slather on his contusions. All these are given as Hange expresses a desire to know how Levi mends.

“But it’s a shame we’ll have to put off your training until tomorrow. Erwin will make sure you have a good breakfast after I’m done sticking you with needles and learning all about your insides,” Hange says, smile big as their face can accomodate.

“What?” Levi lifts his head from the bag of first aid he’s received. “No training at all?”

Hange fixes him with a knowing look. “You’re hardly in the shape. You look about a third dead.”

Levi doesn’t want to know what the other two-thirds of him looks like.

Levi can only let their rambling roll over him as he puts his clothing back on. He’s not so sure this person won’t drain him before he even gets to any actual training.

Today’s not the day for that though. Hange, arms full of newfound data, shares parting words with Erwin and a promise to update him on all the findings later today (why that can’t be done now, Levi doesn’t know).

Then, as swift as Hange appeared, they're gone, and the day zeroes down to him and Erwin again. Levi’s clothed again, which does nothing to buffer him from Erwin’s eyes roving over him. They start from the bottom, and come to rest on his gaze.

Levi holds his ground. He refuses the need to clench his hands.

Eventually though, enough's enough, and he snaps, “You got something to say?"

“My office.”

It’s three words that sucks the air out of Levi.

Erwin exits, just like that, no doubt expecting Levi to follow. For the sake of nothing in particular but his own ego, Levi lingers in the room before shuffling after the other man with a quiet curse. He's starting to feel like Eren, being called in for bad behavior.

Office noises pass by them as they keep along the far wall. Levi keeps his head low, sneaking peeks around the floor, at all the people who may know Erwin better than Levi ever will.

No, they probably don’t, probably can’t even tell he’s pissed. Not even Levi can label Erwin as such, but he’s pretty sure he’s not happy right now. Erwin doesn’t seem the type to boast or invite anyone into the privacy of his life, of his pride and any other emotions he hoards for himself. Levi snorts. Sounds familiar.

Of course Erwin has a big office, tucked in the corner so that half his walls are windows. Thinking back to the restaurant, Levi has to wonder if Erwin’s got a thing for seeing the world’s horizon, even between the gaps of skyscrapers.

Behind him, Erwin shuts the door. Locks it.

Levi steps away from him and absorbs all he can before he can’t. There’s a squat desk that must have taken multiple men to lift in here, with layers of paperwork acting like trim for its face. Naturally, a high-end computer occupies the center, sleek as Erwin’s ties. A couch faces away from the east windows, and there’s a bookcase Levi saw when he came in but can’t see without turning and facing Erwin.

Beyond that, there’s nothing else to point at any other life for Erwin.

Even the walls are bare of loved ones, accomplishments, signed music posters from decades before, or whatever else people color their office with. For a man fond of windows and their views, he certainly kept his own shuttered off from the world.

If nothing else, Levi likes to think that that in it of itself gives him a picture of a workaholic.

Erwin’s moving again, coming to stand before Levi, who is starting to think this room isn’t soundproof.

“Sit down,” Erwin says, one hand gesturing to the couch.

Levi sets his bag down and crosses his arms. He shifts from one foot, hold still entirely, glowers at the floor. Then (damn himself) he shuffles to the couch. It takes him several seconds to get himself to settle in on the far left cushion. It feels good against his achey limbs.

Erwin, however, doesn’t sit. He stands like he’s made of marble, and probably cut so damn well by an artist too. It’s no doubt one of the least better times to think about something like that. However, it’s also already been a long day, so Levi lets himself think on it.

He makes himself comfortable on the couch even as Erwin stares down, unreadable, at him.

Eventually, Erwin does speak. “You had a fight.”

Levi knows lying is stupid, more so when the evidence has been exposed off every inch of his skin. Even now he can see Erwin’s gaze moving along his body, where he’d seen the broken skin, the blots of purple and blue.

So, Levi shrugs both shoulders.

“I’d ask why, but it seems a pointless question now.”

No shit. Levi just stares at him, blinks slowly. The wrinkles folding between Erwin’s brow do nothing to detract from his handsomeness. The guy probably looks especially good angry, if he ever got angry.

Despite himself, Levi admits, “I needed the money.”

Erwin’s expression doesn’t offer him anything. He supposes it’s better than outright pity. He rather be hated than pitied.

“Is that all?” Erwin asks. He sounds like he already knows the answer to that.

It feels like an hour before Levi breaks eye contact, focusing his attention on the bookshelf he couldn’t investigate. Erwin must devote plenty of hours to his office to have stocked reading material here. How many times has he dozed off on the very couch Levi sits on now? Levi wiggles his bottom into the cushion.

“Did you really read all that?” Levi asks.

There’s a pause in silence before Erwin answers. “They’re not decoration. I like to read.”

“Some might say you’re too pretty to bother being smart.”

That earns Levi a soft snort that’s not quite a chuckle.

“Are you calling me pretty?”

Levi thinks ‘handsome’ better illustrates the fine lines of Erwin’s jaw and the bulk of his arms. Pretty is too delicate. “No,” he says, keeping the rest to himself. “But you don’t seem the type to read Oscar Wilde.”

Erwin peers over at his bookcase. He may be humoring Levi as a roundabout “Why is that?”

“Dorian Gray was all about debauchery and sin and lust and vanity,” Levi says, punctuating each noun with his hand. Each one seemingly to reflect a backwards world for Erwin. For the most part.

Erwin’s looking at him again, eyebrows up. His tone is still harder than typical, but there’s amusement underlining his voice. “You’ve read it?”

“Yeah” Levi says. It’s a half-life; it was read to him. His chest feels a size too small for a moment before he breathes out slowly. It’s not a memory he relives often. Nothing about Kenny is relived anymore in his life if he can help it.

Luckily, Erwin doesn’t quiz him on the matter. Instead, he steps closer, forcing Levi to angle his neck back to keep their eyes locked.

“You think your life experience makes it better for you to understand?” Erwin asks. It’s a question that surprises Levi.

“I’m not vain.”

That’s not what Erwin meant, most likely. It doesn’t matter though. Erwin has reached down and claimed one of Levi’s wrists, which goes taut, but doesn’t jerk free. There’s a ring of color around it still, and the rest of his hand looks worse than it feels. At the right angle, the scars on Levi’s knuckles look like they always belonged there, like they are just more wrinkles creasing them.

“But you are reckless. You went against our contract,” Erwin says, only looking. Levi doesn’t blame him. Who would want to touch bone and flesh that had broken someone else’s bone and flesh?

“You didn’t have a fight for me to win last night and I don’t see you paying my fucking bills.”

Erwin’s grip tightens before he lets go.

“I would have loaned you however much you needed until that time,” Erwin says, even though he must already wager Levi will never ask him for money. No, it’s the principle that Levi didn’t bring up the issue with him to begin with.

Levi has no proper response to that, because, yes, he went against the terms and maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all about the money.

“I get by on my own,” Levi says, and it sounds far more breathless than he wishes it did. His wrist is aching where it rests now on his thigh. “What, are you pissed that I got into a fight, or pissed I didn’t tell you about it?”

The lines around Erwin’s eyes tighten. Good.

“You know,” Levi goes on, further deflating into the couch like he’s not at all bothered by any of this, “you don’t even look all that pissed off so why bother with this talk? Do you even get pissed off enough to do anything, or is even your anger just some calculation?”

It’s a risky maneuver to poke the beast you know little about, but Levi believes he’s earned leeway with Mr. Fake-Perfect, who--

Levi barely has the chance to inhale sharply when Erwin crowds him. The fucker’s faster than Levi remembers. Only this time, it’s all Erwin’s heat sweeping on him like layers, and nothing else. Erwin’s hands are fixed on the edge of the couch, one knee pushed near Levi’s hip, not touching, just the painful tease of it.

Erwin’s breath is a sudden ghost against his neck and ear when he speaks. “Are you trying to get me to punish you?”

Yes. No. Maybe. Levi clamps down on his thinking and tongue. The conflict within him threatens a light headache. All the no’s want him to go back to what he knows, away from the one man bent on disrupting the shitty familiarity of his life. All the yeses crave things he’s never had, and the perilous territory it may come with, and remind him he never gave a fuck about what others think of him.

He never gets to answer.

Erwin pulls away, taking the blanket of his presence off Levi and with him.

Levi exhales. It feels colder than he remembers.

“If you think I’m going to think this is grounds for ‘roughing you up’, you’re wrong,” Erwin says. “You’re battered enough as it is and you’ve postponed your training until tomorrow.”

Levi breathes normally again, but still feels his hackles raised. “What about the fight?”

“Don’t misunderstand me.” Erwin’s voice falls hard, and it does something to Levi’s groin. “Don’t think I’m forgetting this. You fighting outside our contract is unacceptable.”

Levi flicks his wrist in a gesture that shows how many fucks he gives.

But he’s surprised again when Erwin shrugs into a coat and picks up the bag Hange gave Levi.

“Where are you going?” Levi asks. Is he seriously just ditching? Is he mad enough to want to neglect Levi to his own devices?

Erwin unlocks his door. “We can still be productive.”

“Where the hell are we going?” Levi remains glued though his feet itch to follow. He didn’t expect Erwin to function outside of what must be a schedule that runs as effectively as a German train station.

Erwin watches him, looking as though he’s waiting. “Shopping, and then to my place.”

Levi’s mouth goes dry. It’s several heartbeats before he can work up enough saliva to say, “What?”

That tone is back, heavy and bypassing Levi’s thick skin. “We can either go to my place, or yours.” Erwin raises a brow like he knows the latter is not an option and doesn’t care anyway.

Fuck it, because Levi gets up and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“...Yours.”

**-x-**

Domestic.

It’s the only word that adequately matches all the gut-wrenching feelings that comes from shopping for groceries with Erwin. It’s a long ways from learning how to endure a blow to the ribs or how to effectively dislocate a man’s shoulder. It’s even farther from wanting to roll around in bed for a few hours with Erwin.

And Levi does, and thinks on it like a mantra knowing he’s going to Erwin’s place after.

Levi lacks the tools to handle the reality of shopping for groceries with Erwin. Somehow, he feels silly hauling around a basket filled with healthy ingredients, on the heels of a man that’s getting occasional looks from women (and a few men) as they investigate produce after produce. They probably look at Levi too. He’s use to ignoring all kinds of looks.

Never mind that his inability to ignore Erwin’s stare at the club led him to where he is now.

Something so trivial as grocery shopping shouldn’t feel so intimidating.

Erwin’s been talking most of the time too. Not about himself, of course. He’s talking about the damn green apple versus the red apple, or how these zucchinis are perfect as a snack or baked in a tray with other vegetables.

And, perhaps more surprising, Levi listens, and doesn’t tell him to shut the fuck up. After a shit day, the mundane seems a good enough remedy, and Erwin’s voice has the timbre that makes it easy to listen to anything he has to say, even if it’s about the damn apples or why he’s fond of this market for their produce sales.

Levi doesn’t make a fuss about Erwin paying at checkout. They’re going back to his place after all.

Erwin’s place.

They drive to Erwin’s place in that nice car of his. They took it to the market, riding in silence, and it’s like that again. This time, Erwin doesn’t touch his thigh. Levi watches the skyscrapers roll by.

Erwin's neighborhood isn't in a gated community, though it's in a nice part of town that's probably got a neighborhood watch. Levi eats up the view of planned botany, of neutral toned buildings that must fit Erwin’s proclivity to structure. Yet as they pull up to a home, Levi is taken aback that it’s not at the top of a deluxe building. Instead, he’s bringing in tote bags with groceries into a two story house, hugged by the sides of its neighbors, and reeking of humility.

“I figured you for a penthouse kind of man,” Levi says as he enters. There’s a thick hallway that spills him into the kitchen to the right. It’s one of those with an island counter that separates a large kitchen from a large living room. Pimped out with 

“Those are ridiculously expensive, you realize.”

Levi doesn’t budge on his opinion, weak as it is. Not that it matters given how well kept Erwin’s home is.

It’s not a far cry from Erwin’s office. Any photos are tucked out of sight, and there’s little mounted on the walls that isn’t a nice lamp or hooks or  a couple of fixtures that look like they came with the place.

“You look like you can afford it,” Levi replies, welcoming himself to the kitchen to dump the bags.

Erwin’s out of his jacket now and begins rolling up his sleeves, exposing the bulk of his forearms. “Just because you can afford something doesn’t mean you need it.”

Fair enough point. Levi rests one hand on the counter and leans his weight into it, watching Erwin unpack.

“So what the fuck are we doing?” he asks, hard, when Erwin doesn’t say anything.

Erwin continues to put away some items, while others he dumps in a container by a sink, presumably to be washed. “Preparing to cook,” he says, looking at Levi and placing one hand on the rim of the container.

“Cook.”

“You have a diet plan after all.”

Levi can only stare at him for a moment. Of all the things his tired mind conjured up, cooking with Erwin isn’t one of those, unless maybe it lead to that scene from that damn movie Isabel made fun of where raiding the fridge turned into a sexually-charged disgusting mess.

When Erwin only gestures at the container, Levi clicks his tongue and surveys the kitchen. There. He plucks the apron off a hook and secures it around himself. Erwin raises a brow at him, to which Levi shoves him aside with his elbow.

“At least go about it properly,” he mutters, before taking the damn vegetables to wash to his standard of cleanliness.

Soon he realizes they need less cleaning than the counter. Levi scoffs and stops rinsings, drying his hands. Without permission, he begins poking his head through cabinets.

"Looking for something?" Erwin asks, mirth tinting his voice now.

"Cleaning supplies."

Erwin directs him to the right cabinets for the proper supplies, no questions asked. Maybe he's too curious to bother to derail Levi's sudden yanking of his cabinets. Within moments, Levi's elbow's deep in gloves and smelling an old friend in the chemicals. He completely avoids looking at Erwin as he scrubs the surrounding counter and the one Erwin intended to use not minutes before.

“Disgusting,” Levi says as way of explanation, using his shoulder to nudge the other man aside.

Erwin's studying him with an intensity Levi feels on the back of his neck like a breeze. “I wouldn’t go as far as to call it disgusting…”

“That’s _why_ it’s disgusting. You have low standards.” Levi sours and points accusingly to a dark mark as evidence. “How often do you clean your counters? You should be able to eat off them.”

Erwin’s face has softened. Levi tears his gaze away and doesn’t allow him to answer. “Never mind. You’re probably the type to prioritize work and not realize the importance of a clean place to live or--”

Not once does Erwin interrupt Levi’s scolding, which becomes a plethora of insults for the most part as he works his way around the kitchen, even tempted to extend his hand to the living room at this rate. He resists and does the barest minimum When Erwin tries to help, Levi knocks his hands away and orders him to start preparing for whatever it is Erwin wants to cook.

“Ridiculous,” Levi says as he finishes, peeling off the gloves. “You expect me to be your fighter when you’re going to cook a meal on this filth? Do you want me to get sick?”

Erwin’s lip twitches and Levi has the mind to hurl the gloves at his face. Farlan had a similar look once when he first learned of Levi’s penchant for sanitation. Seeing a similar reaction has Levi bite his tongue and angrily toss the gloves and used scrub away in the trashcan he finds easily. A round of cleaning is all it takes to master the basics of Erwin’s kitchen it seems. The fact that Erwin allowed him makes him uneasy, and he doesn't know why.

“Well...Thank you,” Erwin says.

It’s all he says on the matter.

Levi glances at him, then moves back to his original spot to rinse the vegetables.

“Shut up and start drying as I pass them to you."

Erwin does without a complaint, standing beside the man who just made his countertops clean enough to lick crumbs off.

“You know, Mike keeps his gym well sanitized,” Erwin says after he accepts the first vegetable. He sounds like he's smiling.

“Hm.” Levi doesn’t doubt him much. For all his loathing of Mike, he has yet to witness an indication of a poorly kept up gym. Then again, the last time he was there, he’d been pinned to a wall with Erwin's fist in his hair.

He almost flinches with Erwin’s knuckles bump into his own. 

“Your fight,” Erwin says, allowing a stretch of silence to follow. Levi knows he’s studying his hands, the freshest scars.

“It was an all-out.” Levi remembers Erwin’s upbringing and doubts he knows the term. He hands Erwin a green pepper. “Knives are allowed.

Erwin takes in a breath just deep enough for Levi to hear. “You could have been killed or hurt worse, Levi.”

Levi smirks at him. “Don’t act like you’re not pleased your new recruit held out against that.”

“It doesn’t make what you did less risky.” There must be a touch of pride in Erwin somewhere. Levi struggles to find it in his face, and opts to put it on the fact that Erwin's voice isn't as rough as it can be.

“Story of my life.”

Silence again, and Levi’s glad for it. Maybe Erwin’s smarter than he gave the man credit for, knowing not to push too hard, lest risk the loss of Levi for good. Or maybe it is coming later.

When Erwin speaks again, it’s when they’re mincing and dicing, and the question isn’t what Levi expects.

“What do you think of Hange?” It's a deviant topic from Levi's behavior last night, but he's not about to reintroduce his delinquency right now.

“Loud. Obnoxious.” Levi watches how much seasoning Erwin begins to coat their veggies with.

Erwin smiles. “Beyond that.”

“You mean what I think of them as my doctor?”

“Yes, that.”

“I barely know them.” Levi attempts to put some effort into the sentiment. He shrugs while Erwin pops the tray into the oven. “Dedicated to their work, I’d say. Not the type to half-ass it.”

“Yes. Hange’s exceptional, and I think their passion is the source of it. It never goes away, not in all the years I’ve known Hange.”

After the stove tops are turned on and pans are sizzling with garlic, Erwin takes a brief respite to pour them both wine. Levi accepts it. He did prefer wine to beer, and a sip confirms Erwin doesn’t skimp out on the red stuff.

He observes Erwin over the glass for each sip while the man cooks the meat. Somehow, Levi doubts he does this often, stand at the stove to cook. His fridge was mostly bare when Levi stored away leftovers in there, and there was a takeout box still in his trashcan.

“You know how to cook for a man who eats out mostly,” Levi tells him, leaning against the counter, content with his drink.

“I’d be a hypocrite if I expected you to eat a certain way and not be able to do it myself.” Erwin glances at him over his shoulder. “I work late often.”

“No shit.”

“You find it obvious?”

“Double no shit.”

“And you don’t?” There’s a layer of hardness, testament that Erwin indeed has not forgotten what Levi was up to last night.

Levi doesn’t allow it to affect the richness of his wine. He takes a languid sip and comes closer. “I think you know the answer to that. And if you work as late as you do that night of the club, I can see why you’re such a busy man.” He sounds bitter, but he doesn’t care.

Erwin gives him a side-glance. “You were there too.”

“To find a brat.”

“I wasn’t there to pick anyone up.”

Levi raises both brows. “Just me.”

“Yes.”

“Smooth talker,” Levi growls into his glass.

Erwin’s chuckle is as rich as the drink. “I feel like you’re trying to rile me up, Levi.”

“I feel like you’re being a fucking stiff, Erwin.”

“I guess I am.”

“Fuck, you’re annoying. Do you know that?”

Erwin isn’t looking at him anymore, eyes on the food he’s preparing. “Some might find you abrasive.”

“It’s better than being annoying. How does anyone talk to you?”

“I-”

“Don’t answer that,” Levi says, waving Erwin off. “I’m sure girls just cream themselves looking at you and you take them home for a wild night in your disgusting kitchen and then your equally disgusting bed.”

Erwin laughs. “You haven’t even seen my bed.”

Levi narrows an eye at him. “Is that an invitation?”

Erwin’s smile is enigmatic. Damn it.

Levi blow it off and lets the wine relax the worst of his muscles, and his tongue, apparently. “I bet you’re one of those that fucks pretty girls to save face, but really you just shove it up their ass while they’re on their stomach so you pretend it’s a man.”

Again, Erwin laughs, and it sounds genuine, like no one’s ever had the audacity to speak to him like that, and so poetically at that.

It tingles Levi to his toes, so he goes on. “I bet you wouldn’t even know how to work it with a woman. When did you even have sex for the first time? Thirty?”

“How old do you even think I am?”

Levi’s smirking back now. “You look old."

“You look like jailbait.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“Fuck your drunk uncle.”

Erwin looks at him, perplexed.

Levi looks back. “Everyone’s got a drunk uncle. So I’m told.”

Their more laughter, however short-lived and relaxed it is, among the flipping and stirring of food and sauces. Somehow the conversation teeters off into some of the more colorful tales Levi has about having a neighbor that was a hooker and her heroic tales of picking men clean and her attempts to lure Levi into a life of luxury at the price of being a sugar baby.

One tale bled to another, Erwin sharing equally colorful stories, one of which in his time in the military when a recruit fell into a panic that he pulled the string to his parachute too late and survived a fall that left him with more than seventy-percent of his bones broken. Levi's tempted to pursue the topic of Erwin's military career, and yet something pulls his curiosity back.

This is far from the worst night Levi’s had to endure.

“I’m sure that looked great on you,” Levi says at the tale’s end, two thirds into his dinner. They sat across from a short oak table with a sheen thanks to a brief run in with Levi’s elbow grease. Hot tea sits near his plate, ready for when the wine's done.

Erwin took a sip of his wine and sighed. “It happens. He was so young at the time. It rarely happens to the younger ones.”

“They think they’re invincible,” Levi finishes for him, earning himself a nod. Last night's fight rushes over him before he has the reflex to stop it. He grows quiet, lowering his fork from another bite.

Erwin, and his keen ways, catches on. “What’s wrong?”

Levi stares at his hot tea next to his wine, ripple-free, opaque. After a while, he’s not sure what has him say, “I was up against a damn kid.” He blinks and reaches for the tea. “Just a teenager.”

For a while, Erwin doesn’t answer. There’s no sound of his utensils either.

“Did you know anything about him?” Erwin asks.

Levi shakes his head and lets the heat warm his palms. “Just a kid. Shit’s like that in a lot of places, not just here. Kids aren’t kids.”

“Were you a kid?”

Levi hates how little control you can lack over your mind. Images pop out like a sudden growth of weeds. He presses his hands harder into the mug.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A legitimate one."

It’s starting to burn, the twinge of pain sparking up his elbows. “Sounds kind of personal if we’re just trainer and trainee…”

“Levi."

Erwin’s hand is in his way now, and easily pries off his hands from the mug. Levi looks at the redness of his skin and shakes off the tingles. Erwin’s hand withdraws and he sits back.

Levi rubs his eyebrow and makes himself sip the drink this time. He must be more worn down than he thought to daze out like he did. Erwin’s still staring silently.

“What?” He feels his glare is diluted by the small stretch of table between them.

“Did you kill him?”

Levi lowers the mug. He looks down at his plate and wills himself to take a bite. “No.” Then, after swallowing, “he won’t be fighting again.”

“Levi.”

“What?”

Erwin’s stare has hardened and not just along the edges. “I don’t want you engaging in any of those fights again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Levi says. “I know what the contract says.” Erwin doesn’t look satisfied. Good. “You’re not going to make me promise, are you? You shouldn’t value my word.”

The severity of Erwin’s stare intensifies. “I value you.”

It’s a statement that robs Levi of a retort. He compensates by going for the wine, his second glass. He’s no lightweight.

“Don’t say corny shit like that,” he says, stabbing his chicken.

“I was brought up to speak what’s on my mind.”

“Sounds like you had a perfect life.”

“I don't think anyone does."

“It’s bullshit.” Levi lets his fork clatter down. He jerks his hand around. “This facade you got up. Like all’s perfect, life’s great if you fake it enough. Bullshit. No one has a perfect life. If they were close to it, then they’d be druggies now, in and out of the rehabs mommy and daddy send them off too this summer. That’s the spoiled brat’s summer camp.”

Erwin blinks at him.

“Stop that."

"What?"

"Your lips. They do this twitch thing,” Levi remarks.

Erwin lifts his head up long enough to show off a frown instead. “What twitch thing?”

“Like you remember something that bothers you or whatnot. One side of your mouth kinda softens up. I don’t know how to explain it.” Levi leans forward. “Am I right? I bet I am.”

“Shall I analyze you in return then?”

“Nice try. I’m a piece of work and it shows. I’m not stupid.”

“You are stubborn though.”

“Ha.” Levi drums one hand on the table. “You don’t even have a fucking picture up anywhere. You’re the one keeping people out, even in your own damn home. Like you want to know everything about everyone and have nothing known about you.”

Erwin can’t seem to help but chuckle. “It sounds like you’ve been studying me a lot in the few days we’ve known each other.”

“I’m use to observing people.”

“Alright, then.” Erwin folds his hands on the table and straightens. “What do you see?”

Levi narrows his eyes and finds no reluctance emitting from Erwin. Fine then. Levi pushes away from the table and navigates around until he’s looming over Erwin (barely, given the size difference). He doesn’t need to be up this close, but there’s a satisfaction in invading Erwin’s space for once.

Shamelessly, he drags his gaze over Erwin’s form, then makes a point of sounding like he’s disappointed when he says, “What’s more to say than you’re a closet sadist and a workaholic. You don’t ever give your mind a break from all the,” Levi wiggles his fingers toward his own head, searching for the word, “conniving you’re probably always up to.”

“You are astute,” Erwin says, lips tilting. He remains seated. “Though I wouldn’t call myself a sadist.”

“Druggies don’t think they’re druggies.”

“You certainly have a quick tongue.”

“Fuck you. You like my tongue.”

Erwin’s answer pleases Levi: “I do.”

In the span of two heartbeats, Erwin’s employed his girth to barrel into Levi. The momentum catches Levi off guard, so that when he’s stumbling, he barely registers he’s fallen back into a plump couch.

Erwin’s all over him again, yet he’s not laid a finger on him, barely has let the heat of his breath gust along Levi’s neck. Levi’s cornered. He glares at the ceiling, then goes to knee Erwin in the gut. It’s remedied by a grab under his knee which hoists him back further and leaves him ripe for Erwin’s mouth.

But damn it only hovers, and Levi grits his teeth.

Fucker.

He snatches Erwin’s hair and jerks him down so their mouths crash. Frustration pours out of Levi’s mouth as aggression. There’s more biting and nipping than necessary, but it doesn’t linger. Erwin’s mouth his hot enough to melt into and Levi opens his mouth wider to indulge in everything it has to offer.

A hand smooths over Levi’s waist, not shy about brushing over sore parts. They’re not there to bring pain, which Levi finds a small nuisance. It’s one easily misplaced under the attention of Erwin’s mouth against his, along his jaw, pressing into the curve of his neck.

Erwin’s body pushes him into the cushion so Levi’s constricted enough to suck in deeper gulps of air. The hand keeps working as much as Erwin’s mouth does, until it’s popping open his pants in a way that proves Erwin’s done this before.

“Shit.” Levi rocks up at the palm grinding over his briefs.

When his own hands try to reach for Erwin’s, they’re taken in one strong grip and forced still against Erwin’s chest. Levi flattens them, soaking in the heat and feeling the faint thud of Erwin’s heart.

Erwin’s hand is a conductor that has Levi’s body singing with tingles and shivers. Fingernails drag along the tuff of hair over the waistband, then creep under, back out over the fabric, back under, this time deeper, and deeper until they barely graze the tip of Levi’s length. His mouth plays over bruises and nip around tender skin.

The hand withdraws at the same time Levi curses. Erwin devours it in a kiss, and his hand goes back in, this time tiptoeing along its size, touching, but not squeezing, only maneuvering the fabric so it rakes down over the sensitive skin, so that the warm air trapped between their bodies can blow on it.

“Fuck, Erwin...just…” Levi talks between kisses, then shoves hard at Erwin’s chest.

Erwin obliges by finally, at long last, squeezing him. Levi rocks up into it with a sound that sputters out of him. It’s aggravated by the way Erwin leans back to watch him, all of him, undulating with the movements, staring open with arousal dusting his cheeks with pink and pupils blown.

Levi thinks he’d like to be in the same position. When he scrambles to reach Erwin’s pants, his sore wrists are pinned once more, and Erwin’s hand on his shaft throws out his protest by picking up pace.

He manages to utilize what little mobility he has in his legs to tug Erwin down, to encourage him to bruise his neck with his mouth alone, take his breath in hard kisses, push up against him and trap his erection between each rock of their bodies, encourage Erwin to push into his injuries with the right amount of pressure.

And then, just as he felt the pinnacle creeping over him, Erwin squeezes him at the base. Levi throws his head back with a cry and claws at strong arms. His glare intensifies with fervor brought about with arousal.

Then, before he can spit an insult, Erwin’s moving his hand again, combing his mouth over Levi’s exposed collarbone and chest.

Then it stops again.

“The fuck…!” Levi stumbles over his ragged breathing. He inhales sharply when he picks up on the mirth twinkling in Erwin’s eyes, made visible thanks to the man’s own arousal. Realization crests in Levi’s eyes. The fucker.

“This is how you’re fucking getting back at me for the fi-” Levi chokes on his own words as Erwin’s body crowds him, pressing close as his hand agonizingly drags over his erection again, a wet kiss to his chest leaving Levi breathless again.

Erwin’s mouth reaches his ear and his chuckle is all the proof Levi needs to confirm the pervert’s a sadist.

And Levi fails to do a damn thing about it. When he thinks he has the wit to act, Erwin strips it away with his tongue, or the grip he holds Levi’s length in. His body stays settled between Levi’s played legs, his position perfect to exploit all the free skin that’s been revealed up to this point.

Levi has no response, just reactions. His head flies back too many times, his clawing at Erwin’s arms fade to acting as anchors to ride out the stolen pleasure when Erwin holds still. He can’t help the cursing and the nonsensical sounds, sweet to Erwin’s ear, that fly out of him.

But it doesn’t last forever. Just when Levi thinks he’s going to warrant the loss of Erwin’s dick, he’s allowed to let loose. Erwin’s mouth covers his again, and the man’s free arm loops around him, holding him close as the other finally, limitless, tips Levi into the climax he’s been starved off for what felt like hours.

Levi sags back and groans, liquified. His eyes close.

He’s not sure if Erwin gets up and leaves at any point, but when his eyes flutter open again, he’s lying on his side, draped with a blanket. His foot's gone numb where it's tucked under his other leg, but his head feels twice as light as it was feeling all day. He moans and stretches. A few things pop and he pushes up into a sitting position, facing forward.

A few blinks and Levi puts the room into focus and memories in the right order. He can't remember feeling not so shitty in a while, he think. At the same time of his realization, Erwin enters the living room, mugs in hand. He puts one on the coffee table Levi forgets being there. There’s a water bottle within reach as well.

“I heard you stirring,” Erwin says. His clothing’s changed to something more casual.

Levi scrubs his face and takes the water. He downs it in a few, long gulps. “Shit. How long was I out?”

“Almost an hour. You were tired, obviously.” Erwin takes a seat beside him, the smell of his coffee less enticing to wake up than the warmth from the man himself.

Levi peels the blanket off him. “So you jerk me off to put me to sleep or something?” Though he doubts Erwin anticipated him to crash after their little session.

“You don't seem bothered by it."

“Jesus, I almost forgot how much you can piss me off.”

Erwin laughs, lightly. He takes a sip of his drink and slips one hand on Levi’s thigh. It prompts Levi to look down and see himself zipped up without a stain crusting up his shirt. He takes in the sight of Erwin and taking in the delicate hint of soap or shampoo.

“For someone who pisses you off, you really wanted me to--”

Erwin’s the one shut up this time, by Levi’s mouth no less and it’s a precarious handling from both their hands to prevent the coffee from spilling. Levi tastes the bitterness on Erwin’s tongue and, with caution, manages to put the mug aside without breaking contact. He’s straddling Erwin’s lap in order to do so, and everything sensible in him wants to think this can’t be conducive to a fighter-trainer dynamic.

With the cup out of the way, Levi shoves Erwin’s arms back before his hands can reach for him, either to stop or encourage Levi doesn’t know.

He guides himself down Erwin’s body until his knees bump the carpet and his hands find a zipper. Erwin makes a grab for his wrists fast, but Levi’s look dares him to try it.

“Shut the fuck up,” he tells Erwin, who has said nothing yet.

Nimble fingers, albeit sore, work Erwin’s pants open and reach in to expose the already hardening length beneath. Levi pauses to note that Erwin’s cock is like the rest of him, and he expected nothing less. But he wasn’t on his knees to sing its praises.

Flicking his eyes up, Levi memorizes every facet of Erwin’s reaction as he drags his tongue along the tip. Erwin’s eyes shut, his breath comes in a hiss. Levi internally smirks at the power a lone mouth can have on a man.

He takes Erwin as much as his mouth allows and sucks.

Erwin doesn’t react the way Levi does, with twitches and the occasional squirm. All Erwin’s movements come in his muscles. Levi splays his free hand along his stomach, on his thigh, feeling them constrict and relax depending on what his mouth does, what his hands do, how hard he hums.

“Levi…”

It’s a groan, and Levi’s body responds to it. He indulges, juggling a swift method between a lazy, loud one that’s punctuated by a pop when he sucks off the tip. All of it has Erwin’s breath come deeper, and his eyes observing Levi through half-lids. High thighs splay a little wider, one set of fingers plays into Levi’s hair.

Levi feels the tension mounting in Erwin just as his jaw’s starting to get a tick. Erwin’s grunting and pushing at his head as a warning, but Levi smacks him off. He isn’t about to have this end with Erwin dirtying any of their clothing or worse, his face.

Levi doesn’t care much about the alternative. In fact, the urge to pull away pales under the flaring want to have Erwin’s taste lingering on his tongue. It’s a relentless need the loner he works Erwin into a cluster of grunts and groans. There are far worse things than swallowing, and far worse when if it’s Erwin. It’s a thought that latches onto Levi as he works his mouth and hand faster until he feels Erwin’s hand tighten on his scalp.

It’s a small warning and when Erwin’s spended himself, Levi leans back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It’s worth the sated look on Erwin, a far cry from the impenetrable gaze.

They stare at each other. Levi realizes one hand is still on Erwin’s knee. He detaches from it and stands up, not sure if it’s a good thing that he has plans for the night that doesn’t include seeing what would unfold after sucking Erwin off.

“Levi.” Erwin’s spoken first, and the way he says his name runs a shiver down to Levi’s gut.

Levi’s phone chimes. It makes his skin prickle, like reality calling him out of his stupor. It’s a good enough reason to pull away from holding Erwin’s gaze and to his jacket that’s draped neatly over a seat. Fishing his phone out, he reads Eren’s text to himself.

“Ah, shit.”

“Problem?” Levi hears Erwin zip up and stand. The bastard looks as collected and put together as ever. Levi vows to at least tangle his hair next time.

“I forgot I had plans,” Levi says. He looks toward the dining table, cleared of the plates from earlier. “Gotta get the brats dinner.” Not that Erwin needs to know. Why is he telling him?

He turns to find Erwin’s attention on his neck. Levi rubs at it on instinct. “What?”

Erwin’s smile, for once, tells of his amusement.

“Pervert,” is all Levi can think to mutter, hoping the hickeys are less prominent than he thinks they are. He steps away from Erwin’s heat and locates his shoes and bag of ointments in the hallway to the door.

"I wasn't thinking about that."

"Yeah?"

"I commend you helping out, what was it, brats with an 's'? Plural?"

Levi grumbles under his breath as he tugs on his shoes.

"I couldn't hear that." Erwin's definitely sounding pleased about now. Guess a blowjob would shave off the sharpest ends of any man's anger.

“I said that I bet that’s how you want all our training sessions to end,” Levi calls over his shoulder.

Erwin’s not far behind him. “I take your training seriously.”

“Your cock in my mouth proves that,” Levi says, smirking as he tugs on his jacket, the fabric covering the bruises on his neck.

“You’re the one that put it there.”

“You didn’t take it out.”

“Far be it from me to dampen your enthusiasm.”

Levi whirls on him, and a hand strikes out to grab hold of his jaw. It’s firm, mindful of last night’s assault. The way Erwin thumbs over them is promising. Levi tenses, waits, and blinks when Erwin kisses him. Not many would want to after what Levi’s been doing with his mouth. It’s heavy and languid, and he kisses back because Erwin knows how to kiss and that’s enough reason.

When it ends with a soft smack of their lips, Erwin says, “I expect that enthusiasm for your training tomorrow.”

Levi rubs his jaw after Erwin releases it. “Pervert.”

“You called me that already,” Erwin teases, getting the door for Levi.

“You haven’t denied it,” Levi says, striding forward to bully Erwin out of grabbing his keys. “I’ll get a cab.”

Erwin doesn’t press the matter, instead leaning against the open door as Levi steps out into the sobering chill. “Seven in the morning tomorrow,” he calls. "And don't eat before."

“ _Seven_?”

“I can make it six.”

Levi flips him off before turning hard on his heels.

“And rest up,” Erwin adds. “You’re in for your hardest training yet.”

Levi lifts out his arm to broadcast the bird at him again. He does, however, manage a smirk over his shoulder. He sees Erwin smile before he’s turned a corner and no longer sees him.

Then, it’s just him and the cold, and Levi can’t help but feel the day's not so shitty anymore.

 

**-x-**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't apologize enough for how late this chapter is. It all gets blamed on being an adult. SO SO SO SORRY for the wait /rots in the dunce corner
> 
> The boys are starting to soften up around each other juuust a bit. A lot more Erwin/Levi talks in the next chapter. Probably more blowjobs and drama and who knows what else~ 
> 
> Thank you for reading though. I really appreciate all the support!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erwin can probably kill him with two fingers if he really wants to.
> 
> It’s thrilling.

 

**-x-**

Six-fuck-the-world in the morning is an awful time to stir, and no one can convince Levi otherwise. His alarm’s blare did the job to startle him out of what was a serendipitous night of decent-ish sleep. Its grating echo haunts him after he’s shut it off.

He groans a modicum of his bane into the pillow.

There’s something about rising at the same hour worker bees do, all haggard under their suits and layers of coffee, that puts Levi off as much as the wails and sputtering of cars in the congested streets during rush hour that occurs beyond his bedroom window.

It’s almost the same time Eren and Mikasa typically get up, given that they need ample time to walk to the school. Levi knows this from the times he’s heard them already bickering, which earned them the experience of seeing what happens when you wake Levi from the little sleep he rarely covets.

“Fucking...Erwin…”

Levi groans again into his pillow before propping up. Discipline is the only thing that swings his legs off the bed, and most definitely not the promise of seeing Erwin again. No, at best, knowing he’s got decent training ahead, which will then equate to decent money, propels him into the bathroom with memories creeping through the fog of his sleepiness.

At least, it’s a far better way to wake up than yesterday. The memories speckle his skin, a hickey that Levi was careful to keep hidden when he visited the brats last night, waning bruises from Erwin’s hand and tenacious ones from his fight from before.

He’s certainly looked worse, he decides, before bending down to the sink.

Levi’s clean and clothed by a quarter after, gym bag on one shoulder, hands empty of his favorite black tea. No food or drink, as per Erwin’s request, leaves his hands vulnerable to fisting at the slightest noise that grates his nerves.

Which means no time to stop in on the sort-of-siblings today. Levi knows they have food from last night, so he decides to put a little oomph in his step before--

“Levi!”

Fuck.

Levi is about to toss over his shoulder that he’s late, but Eren’s already caught up to his step, grinning too early for this damn hour, breakfast in hand.

“I thought I heard your door open. Off to the gym?”

“Yeah.” Levi pulls a face when Eren exposes his half-eaten breakfast. Hotdog with too much on it. “You’re leaving early today…”

“Mm.” Eren, at least, has learned by now the decency of swallowing his bite before speaking to Levi. “We got state testing so we have to be there earlier.”

“Sounds great.”

“But after,” Eren’s voice is definitely too fierce for the morning, “we’re going to all celebrate. This weekend. You should come!”

From behind Eren, Mikasa says, “It might be fun.”

It’s enough to pique Levi’s drowsy senses, and he can only conclude that Mikasa wants him there as another pair of eyes to watch Eren.

“Yeah, because a party with teenagers is exactly what my weekend needs.”

“No, no, it’s going to be a lot of older kids. Like, college students. Jean got word of this great party--”

“The kid that punched you in the face?”

“Well...yeah.”

It’s all too much for Levi right now. He rubs his temple, overwhelmed by teenage energy and stupidity, and the pungent odor a hotdog has, and soon to be the cacophony of the city.

“Listen,” he says as they descend the last flight of stairs, “Focus on your damn tests first before you give yourself a reason to act like a moron.”

Eren hurried to the door first, swallowing the last of his breakfast. “So you’ll come?”

“You don’t fucking listen do you?” Levi has the mind to flick his nose, but merely walks through the opened door. He is going the opposite way, thank the fickle whore that is luck, and waves over his shoulder without looking at the kids. “Stay out of trouble.”

The city’s already drowning Eren’s farewell, which is a feat.

The chills not as potent at this hour, and far from fresh. Levi steels his nerves and body from what can easily become a sensory overload, diverting to taking streets less impeded by traffic lights. It’s part of why he woke up earlier than necessary.

That, and the second reason when he pauses outside of Petra’s gym.

It’s open by now, and Levi’s not really sure why he wanted to bother coming by. He does long for the familiarity of it, of the quiet and minimalism of it, before Erwin and this new job. Regardless of Erwin’s intentions, Levi has the mind to return here and blow off steam his way.

He loiters too long in nostalgia because Petra spots him from within and beams. A wave, and Levi winces internally. Caught, he drags himself in. She meets him at the door.

“Hey. It’s been a while. I was actually starting to worry.”

Levi scans the gym briefly. There are four others already using it.

“Yeah, things got...busy,” he says.

Petra’s smile shortens, her eyebrows going up. “Oh. Bad busy?”

Is it?

“Not exactly. Different.” Levi shrugs. “A new job kind of different.”

She seems pleased, and looks like she wants to ask what it is. She refrains and instead asks, “Does that mean you won’t be by as much?”

“I’ll find time.”

Her smile widens. “It’s nice of you to visit though,” she says, tucking hair behind her ear.

Levi doubts that’s a good word to attach to him and his behavior. “Yeah, well, I prefer your gym. It’s a good one.”

It’s not a platitude, and Petra believes him by the way her face brightens and her eyes glance back at her gym. Granted, it lacks the pizzazz and funding Mike’s does, and Levi figures no one worth a lot to their name comes here. Still, it’s a unique construction of simplicity and a kind of privacy Levi appreciates. And the owner certainly is better company than most.

Before the sentiment can extend into anything else, Levi steps back to the entrance. “I’ll see you.”

Petra’s shoulders tense, like she’s about to blurt something out upon seeing Levi’s departure. In the end, she just calls out, “Sooner than later, I hope.”

Levi walks the worst of the traffic before waving for a cab (begrudgingly). His legs try to keep pressing on when he sees the hospital looming over the inclined street. It’s difficult from his location, but he’s gotten pretty good at counting to Isabel’s room. It’s not like looking at it pushes any good vibes her way, but then again, it seems Levi’s desperation has been grasping at anything lately.

A cab rolls to a hard stop for him.

Levi gets in.

He hates the ride. There’s a lack of control that keeps him aware of other vehicles and the taxi’s speed. Despite himself, Levi can’t stop himself from comparing it to when Erwin drove him. The lack of control very much present then, and yet leaving him less antsy and less inclined to dive out of the moving vehicle.

If nothing else, he makes it to Erwin’s building in one piece, with just a few minutes of his life shaved off from the incident. Better that than having called Erwin to have someone pick him up. Levi never really thinks of himself as being directed solely by his pride. A moment like this almost questions it.

Because it’s so fuck-shit-early, Levi allows himself to feel guiltless as he pays the guy and re-takes the sight in of the skyscraper when everyone’s piling into work. Compared to his part of town though, the people are caked in more brand names and look like their lives are put better together.

Levi doesn’t rely on looks alone, and thinks little of his own as he melts into the crowd. Bypassing the elevators, he takes the stairs all the way up to Erwin’s floor, and curses the man every five steps. His stomach is starting to grumble, and his brains’ aching for the pick-me-up black tea gives him.

It’s all too much that Hange is the first to spot him. By the looks of it, they have been pacing about, as much a wild creature as the one they’re invested in studying.

"Levi!"

Hange’s all grins and wide eyes when they latch onto Levi and greet him with more zeal than is allowed at the hour.

“Right on time,” Hange is saying, ushering Levi already past the reception and into the familiarity that must be Hange’s office.

“We’re doing all this in here? Don’t you have a lab or something?”

“I do, but it’s not nearby and not the best to bring patients in. This place does nicely enough."

Levi sees nothing worth arguing about it. What does he know about the bureaucracy of legalized fighting? It doesn’t matter what it is, there’s always something dirty at the top of the chain of command, and Levi isn’t arrogant enough to pretend he can play that game.

He watches Hange unload all sorts of equipment of the medical sort. Levi gets the drill and takes a seat as he did yesterday, containing himself at all the inspection that occurs the moment he slips his shirt off.

“These are new,” Hange says, with their delight too evident in their voice.

Levi fists his hands and inwardly curses. When Erwin’s mouth changed the color of some of his skin, Hange’s morning analysis had been the farthest thing from the forefront of his mind. He doubts the same can be said for Erwin.

Levi does not deign that with a confirmation. Hange doesn’t ask more, probably getting their fill from Levi’s silence.

Damn Erwin. Again.

“Well, it’s something to note that you have a sexual appetite” Hange pauses, looking up as if a thought struck them at that moment. “Oh. Did you have anal sex though?”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

Hange’s gaze is imposing, and stripped of shame, and rapt with medical curiosity. “If you’re training, you should limit the--”

“Do not go there. I’m not about to have you checking out my ass this morning, for fuck’s sake--No, I didn’t have sex.”

“Of any sort? Might I cover that oral sex is also sex.”

Levi’s eyelid twitches and his right hand clenches harder.

Hange seems oblivious to his wrath and looks away with a hum, making a note. “Your bloodwork will cover that, so I’ll know soon enough.”

Levi shuts his eyes and breathes out the amalgamation of nasty feelings Hange’s managed to incur with one question. The anger hardly can last anyway, not when this fool thinks their questions are meaningful and not asked in an attempt to stir Levi’s ire. In a way, Hange's like Pimp, just doing what they do naturally.

He is starting to believe this doctor is more the wild beast than anyone else.

“Where’s Erwin?” Levi asks. “Is he putting you to these questions?”

“I ask questions as your doctor, not because of what Erwin wants.” The way Hange says it piques Levi’s curiosity. Someone who has the oomph to combat Erwin’s dominion can’t be all fuck-crazy. Or maybe too fuck-crazy.

“He’ll be here soon anyway,” Hange continues, more as an afterthought as they lift up their phone and snap a picture. Figures. Levi sighs and leans back, knowing the sooner he gets over the pricking and poking, the sooner he can get some food in him.  “How are you feeling today?”

“I can breathe fine. Got two working legs. No complaints.”

Hange laughs lightly. “A tough guy. I get it.”

“No, I just have low expectations.”

“They’re humble ones, not low." Hange's smile looks softer now, but it lasts only for the span of seconds. "How is your soreness?”

Levi blinks at the ceiling, assessing. When was there a day he wasn’t sore? Something always ached, always has his entire life, only now he prefers that to the pain of hunger and worse from his younger years.

“Better. I used your ointments but didn’t take any of the painkillers.”

“Oh? Hm.” Hange makes a note of that. They don’t ask why, and Levi appreciates that. He’s seen how a day of pill-popping can spiral into a wrecked life. He avoids it as much as he can, pitiful as a reason as it may sound to someone else.

Levi narrows his gaze on Hange as they snap on gloves. There’s a needle and vials.

“How long have you been doing this?” he can't help but ask. 

“This? Doctorly stuff?”

“Whatever you want to call it.”

Hange scoots over and begins the prep work for drawing Levi’s blood. Beyond the closed door, the office must be droning on, and somewhere, Erwin is on his way. It’s a sudden, fluttering thought that has Levi clench and unclench his fist.

“I’ve always been fascinated by what the human body can do,” Hange says, bending over his elbow, prodding with mindful fingers, “how similar our composition is and yet responses can be so different.”

“You been working with fighters a long time?”

“Not long enough,” they reply, flashing Levi a smile. “I know you’re reluctant about all this, but I appreciate it. I’m very excited to see your progress.”

Levi watches the needle go in. It’s more an instinct to watch what’s being done to him, but almost immediately he’s rushed back into a memory of waking up with too many things sticking in him and on him, of  tearing them off and staggering out and around to eventually find Isabel that first time with more wires spilling out of her than a computer.

“Levi?”

Levi opens his eyes and realizes he’s been holding his breath. On the exhale, he’s a little dizzy and shuts his eyes again.

Hange’s hand is light on his arm, so unlike the presence of Erwin. Levi’s not sure if that’s something good or not.

“You alright there? Take a deep breath. You got a little gray.”

“I’m fine,” Levi says on another exhale. It takes more than will to fold up the memory, piece by piece. When he opens his eyes again to stop seeing Farlan and Isabel on the canvas of the darkness, he keeps his gaze off Hange’s work.

“Almost done,” they say, their tone quieter, and they don’t press him for anything else.

Hange takes notes and blood with constraint. Levi thinks its for his benefit, and he clenches his jaw thinking how obvious his discomfort must have been for Hange to see it. Though, perhaps it isn’t and Hange has far more keen eyes than solely for the biology of the person in front of them.

Maybe.

For now Levi accepts the silence filling the space between Hange’s pen scratching notes, incoherent muttering, or shuffling about their materials as they finish the morning’s rituals. When they press a cottonball into the crook of Levi’s elbow, their smile has toned down several layers.

“What a big boy. All done. Fast, yes? I’d give you a lollipop if I had one.”

“Shut up.”

Hange breaks into a wider smile as they remove their gloves. “Don’t worry. You’ll be in good hands soon. You can wait for Erwin here, or in his office.”

Levi doesn’t allow a second to pass before answering, “His office.”

Anything that doesn’t mean he’s in this place with the hint of antiseptic and walls that have seen all sorts of orifices prodded and examined in the name of Hange’s doctorly duties. Levi barely spent time in the hospital, and he didn’t have a fully functioning leg at that time. Hell if he isn’t using two good ones to drag himself up and into Erwin’s office, with Hange’s assistance to ensure he didn’t pass out along the way.

Levi notes that Erwin’s door isn’t locked when Hange opens it and observes Levi isn’t about to collapse. Without prompting, Levi stretches out on the sofa, propping his feet higher than his head, and then accepting what turns out to be a sports drink.

“Have that,” Hange says. “Erwin’s bringing you food, but I can grab you something from the kitchen. I can stay--”

“No, it’s,” Levi takes a gulp of the drink and lowers his head back down with a sigh, “I’ll be fine. You can go.”

It feels like a struggle to mentally convince Hange to accept his words. They do, eventually, their parting words barely going into Levi’s consciousness as he basks in the slight respite at long last. Something about looking forward to their relationship or something.

Levi breathes deeply, not allowing himself to doze off. Did normal people usually concern themselves with having the room in full sight, arms available to fight, should the need arise? Probably not.

Levi’s eyes open, and the room not tilting to one side is a good sign. It’s all the encouragement to ease himself to sit up and settle back into the couch until Erwin shows up. At least, that is his intention until he spots a cobweb in the corner, next to the book case housing Oscar Wilde.

Levi watches it for a while before his compulsion has his eyes scan over the case. He sneers.

There’s little stopping his rise and padding over, confirming the dust collecting on the higher shelves. Levi abandons it temporarily, taking sips of his drink as he moves to the other one, sickened at this one’s worsened state.

Lying down and attempting a respite is a fantasy by now. Levi sets the drink down.

Since Kenny offered him his first one, Levi’s carried a handkerchief with him. Two now, one to protect his nose and mouth from inhaling the dirt. Most people should, if he voiced his opinion on the matter of cleanliness. There is always a time to need to wipe your hands or maneuver a suspiciously grimey door handle in a public place, and there may be no other methods save to use your own shirt and carry the filth against your person.

The first handkerchief is what Levi uses now to start wiping the shelves, navigating under books to get the cracks where dust has squeezed in and most people skip over out of sheer laziness. At this rate, he’ll need to find out where the cleaning supplies are stored so as not to dirty both the handkerchiefs.

“Oh…”

Levi turns halfway to see Erwin standing in the doorway, balancing drinks and food. He looks great, even for a Monday morning, his business attire replaced by those fitted for a trainer at the gym.

Erwin smirks. “Are you cleaning my office?”

Levi grits his teeth and jerks down the cloth around his face. “Clearly someone has to. Do you not pay the cleaning crew to do a thorough enough job?”

Erwin blinks. “I don’t know their salary.”

“Cleaning crews hardly make salaries. They make peanuts,” Levi mutters, more to himself as he finishes off wiping one book that is angled against its brethren thanks to a gap, and thus gathered a patina of dust on its cover. He folds the cloth and tucks it into a side pocket of his bag.

Erwin chuckles, and Levi looks over his shoulder to see him lifting up the doggie bag, heavy with nourishment. The odor permeates through the room, and Levi’s stomach lurches.

“I thought you’d be hungry.”

“No shit.”

Food eclipses anything else, and Levi settles into the couch beside Erwin, accepting the food. He goes right for it and feels himself come a little more alive. Beside him, Erwin does the same, at a slower pace.

“I bumped into Hange on the way here. Very excited about your results," Erwin says.

“Glad someone is,” Levi says between bites. The food’s hot and seasoned well. “Where’d you get the food? Not bad.”

“There’s a mom and pop shop a block from here. My favorite when I don’t want to cook.” Erwin extends a cup with coffee, if the smell indicates anything.

Accepting the caffeine, Levi sips at it. Dark and unflavored.

“Wasn’t sure what you put it in,” Erwin says, grunting as he settles in beside Levi on his couch. He sit the bag between his feet and resumes eating.

“Nothing,” Levi says. He digs into his meal again and almost moans.

“Good?” Erwin asks.

Levi nods once before solidifying it with another bite. Waking up early feels less a herculean effort if it meant a morsel like this. Not that he plans to accept any free meal Erwin offers him perpetually. Doesn’t hurt though now and then. Levi’s had far worse, and Erwin's company isn't awful. Last night testified to that.

Hunger impeded, desire fills in the void, made that much more palpable with Erwin’s knee precariously close to his own. Levi scans the girth of his thighs and wonders what they feel like anchored on either side of his own hips.

“Having fun?”

Levi lifts a glare to Erwin’s face. He swallows before saying, “With what?”

“Nothing,” Erwin says, looking away all too amused for Levi’s liking. “You’ll need your energy for today. We’ll walk to Mike’s place. Digestion and all.”

Levi doesn’t answer, savoring each piece. Every meal is a gift, a perspective beaten into him when so young he lacked them. Sometimes he’ll still hear Kenny’s voice, telling him to chew slower.

“You look like you slept better,” Erwin says only after Levi’s done eating and nursing his coffee. He’s gotten up to retrieve a thin folder from his desk a minute before. It rests on his lap as he satisfies what may be a sweet tooth in the form of some kind of healthy looking fig bar.

“Is that your indirect way of asking me if I had another fight?” Levi shoots back at him.

“I prefer the direct way.”

Levi snorts, doubting that. He trusts his gut when it warns him Erwin is a manipulator, and that means everything they do is indirect in some way or form. He watches the man eat. Like his damn hair, it’s neat, without even really trying.

“Your hair always so damn perfect?” He decides to ask. The folder can wait.

Erwin glances at him. “My hair?”

“It doesn’t look like you use gel.”

Erwin smiles around a bite, pisses Levi off by indulging his chew, then says after swallowing, “I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Is that your way of asking me if you can touch it?”

Levi’s not the sort with a proclivity to blush. Erwin’s comment threatens that, the jab too easy to fall prey to if Levi a more reckless kind of man.

“I prefer the direct way,” Levi throws back Erwin’s earlier words.

“I figured as much.” Erwin wipes his fingers clean, a small gesture that Levi likes watching, mind imagining what else can be pinched between the power of those fingers.

When Erwin picks up the folder, his body leans toward Levi. It’s all too easy to mirror the posture and crane his neck closer. Erwin flips it open while Levi tugs it so it’s half on his lap to study as well.

“This is the infamous training schedule?”

“Provided Hange’s results come back fine, and how you do today, yes. It’s a skeleton of my plan for you. Hange and Mike helped.”

Levi pulls a face at it. Granted he’s devoted hours at Petra’s place, mostly as a means to let off steam than really prepare for a fight. All the skill Levi’s acquired was not taught within four walls with some punching bags and weights.

Still--

“Something wrong?” Erwin asks, his voice close.

Levi’s tempted to both angle closer and jerk away. He remains still where he’s at and focuses on the paper in front of him, calculating the total hours of his physical well being he will be entrusting to Erwin’s methods.

“It’s practically a whole fucking day.”

“Do you have better things to be doing?” Erwin’s voice resonates with a pinch of knowing. “Surely you’re not intimidated.”

Levi’s side-glance is hard as he can manage, given the circumstances. The effect’s a little moot when he’s so close to Erwin and they’re all but huddled over documents together.

“The beginning will be difficult,” Erwin goes on, diverting from Levi’s look altogether. He points to the paper. “And it won’t get easier.”

“Great.”

“But you will be stronger. Your evaluation today will determine the bulk of the rest of your training.”

“So,” Levi stretches his arms out along the couch’s top, hand provided with easy access to Erwin’s hair if he so wanted to. He holds the cup in his other hand, his arm no longer feeling the sting of where the needle had gone through. “It’s not just fighting. There’s a shitload of other stuff in there?”

“Yes.”

“You really thought it through.”

It isn’t quite a compliment more than an observation. Erwin’s got some humility because he doesn’t look chuffed by the comment. He nods, as if accepting it as a fact.

“I told you. There’s a lot more than just your body we’re working on.”

“Yeah, you made that pretty clear last night.”

The comment’s too eager to slip past Levi’s loose lips, and he’s all over Erwin’s response, straining to pick up anything. Normally, that sort of remark acts as a floodgate, and what gushes forth could be either good or bad.

Levi doesn’t pick up on any regrets, or so much as a twitch in Erwin’s jaw. The bastard’s tightly closed off. Seems not even grogginess, if he ever gets it, is enough to cotton Erwin’s defenses.

Erwin doesn’t so much as glance at him as he organizes the papers and pulls out another one from the file.

“Your mouth certainly gets plenty of work done,” Erwin says.

Levi scowls at the double insinuation. He isn’t displeased entirely, what with that quick wit Erwin’s equipped, which is more than can be said for most people. Levi’s face relaxes into a smirk. His fingers reach out and flick the ends of blonde hair. Even in that quick act he feels the smoothness of Erwin’s hair.

“Maybe my mouth’s all you’re really after. Maybe all this fight shit is just a cover for you to get off in an unorthodox way,” Levi says. His chest tightens at the possibility of truth ringing in his words, and he hates that he’s aware of the sensation.

“I’m your trainer first,” Erwin says, clipped.

“So sex is just a motivator?” Levi cocks his head. “Or just a stress reliever for someone with a sewer pipe so high up their ass all they spew is shit.”

Erwin’s lip twitches, its meaning lost on Levi. For all his demand to see something cross the man’s face, he lacks the decoder to make sense of most of it when something happens.

“I thought you were going to learn to trust me on this.”

“You haven’t fully earned my trust.”

Erwin looks at him, his surprise, however miniscule, apparent in his gaze. Levi stares back with earlier intensity, waiting, unsure as to what in his tone or words tipped off Erwin’s expression.

The man smiles, and then he’s looking back down at his files.

“Seems we’re making progress.”

“What are you babbling about?” Levi asks.

“Before, I don’t think you’d even comprehend the idea of me earning your trust.”

Levi requires several heartbeats for that to sink in. He doesn’t recognize his own eyes widening as realization crests in him. Erwin’s still looking at the files, but that doesn’t make anything better.

Biting down on his tongue, Levi snorts and crosses his arms.

Trust. It’s a word Levi’s not willing to delve into from any angle right now, so the moment falls flat between them.

“Are you going to just keep talking shit or actually tell me what’s on these papers?”

Erwin does, slipping into the new task at hand with the ease of the commander he once was. There’s something about his devotion to this space in time of elaborating on his plans, at least what he’s willing to share, for Levi’s training. His voice never drops in tone, a pedantic sound that Levi can begin to understand has men spring into action when pitched to the tune of a command.

Gradually Levi scoots closer, their legs replacing the need for a table as each paper is presented.

The work is meticulous, with various events accounted for. Erwin has even anticipated probable likelihoods of injuries and the swiftest course of recovery for each. Levi’s so buried in the mapping of what is his new regime that he barely registers the outside of their thighs pressed together, their meal long devoured.

Erwin’s mind has brilliance in it. Funny how a small folder’s worth of information reveals it so strikingly better than anything else.

“If only you put this much effort into keeping your office tidy,” Levi says, flipping a page back to the nutrition. A diet heavy with protein and complex carbohydrates, loaded with vegetables and all requiring effort Levi wonders his sore body will be reluctant to expend on.

By now, Erwin’s let Levi scan through whatever papers he wants to again. “Do you often find yourself cleaning other people’s belongings?”

“Just yours.”

“For someone who lives in a less than immaculate part of town--”

“Shit part,” Levi interrupts, “it is what it is. Don’t sugarcoat it.”

Erwin sounds amused. “...shit part, you really clean up.”

At that, Levi lifts his head at Erwin, eyes hardening. The renewal of his rage lurks beyond his gaze, ready to strike. “You saying because I live in the shit I need to smell and look like it too?”

“Not at all.”

“Just because someone grew up in the dumps doesn’t mean they don’t know what cleanliness means.” For Erwin’s uppity-brought-up sake, he adds, “Just many of them stop caring after a while. Hard to care if you’re too worried about eating, about having a place to sleep where there aren’t rats or rapists or worse.”

“Worse,” Erwin says.

Levi looks over at him. “Easy to think the city’s nice when you got a high view of it. Not so easy to think about all the shit that goes down between the alleys, huh?”

“Did you ever stop caring?”

Levi straightens, frowning at Erwin. “What?”

“About being clean. Did you ever stop caring at some point?” Erwin’s gaze is heavy, but not penetrating. He’s not demanding an answer.

Levi holds his eyes before shrugging one shoulder.

“It is easy to not think about what happens everyday,” Erwin adds.

“Shit happens out here too,” Levi says, waving to reference the nicer part of any city, “just happens more obviously in the dumps. That’s why it’s called a dump. People forget about it.”

“You’ve lived there your whole life though.”

Levi can’t tell if it’s an attempt at recognizing his survival skills or some hand at pity. He opts for the former, doubting Erwin the kind to ever bestow pity, even with his upbringing.

“Yeah. But fuck if I’m going to die there.”

Erwin hums as if in contemplation. “I’ve been meaning to ask. There’s no record of family...”

Levi isn’t surprised, and almost wants to poke for more intel on what kind of records Erwin has at all. There was a time as a child even the government didn’t know he existed.

“Mom died young,” Levi says, factually. In truth, he has too little recollection of her to have ever taken time to mourn.

Levi has never mourned, for anything.

“Don’t know who knocked her up with me.”

Erwin’s face hasn’t strayed from facing Levi’s. It may be a ploy to pick out deception on Levi’s part. It may not be. Levi refrains from letting it get to him. He knows he can shut this whole conversation down and Erwin will leave the matter be, but none of this information seems worth holding onto.

Plus, he has no doubt that Erwin will find another method of learning it anyway.

“So how did you manage if you were a child when she died?” Erwin asks.

Levi’s heart skips a beat. Carefully, he thinks over his answer and is aware he’s not looking at Erwin as he does so. There’s a chunk of him that wants to deny Erwin access to this. There’s a smaller, shrewder side that encourages him to offer a piece of the past. A gut feeling tells him Erwin finding out about Kenny his own way is less beneficial to Levi than if he provides a modicum of the truth to satisfy his curious appetite for now.

“Scraped by for a bit,” he admits. “Then some man took me in. Raised me til I was old enough to do my own thing.”

‘Raised’ hardly qualifies by societal standards. Still, Kenny provided. Diluted to its core, food and shelter accounted for heaven for a child Levi back then.

“Some stranger?” Erwin asks.

Levi hears all the other questions beneath it.

“Jesus, he didn’t rape me, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Levi shook his head, his frustration a flicker of its typical inferno. There’s no blame in Erwin suspecting something like that. Anyone with some sense may assume something similar, and more times than not, they aren’t wrong.

Erwin narrows his eyes. “But he wasn’t good to you.”

“Nice try. You aren’t doing any psycho-analysis on me,” Levi says, pointing at Erwin with his middle finger. “I got a lot more than others did. I’m not dead, am I? That’s what there is to it.”

“What is his name?”

“What does it matter?”

“Seems to matter if you’re not wanting to share it.”

“Seems not worth sharing it if you want to know so fucking bad.” Levi glowers down at the papers. “Doesn’t matter. I got into fighting to make my own money, and here I am.”

“Cleaning my office,” Erwin finishes. “You didn’t just go into fighting.”

“I tried other jobs. Pay wasn’t enough, or hours weren’t good.” Levi reached for his cup and akes a sip of the the cooled remnants of the drink  to hide what may betray on his face that it is a slight lie. More like the stuff he’d been doing before sustained a level of peril and risk that, in retrospect, had not been worth it. “Not that it mattered…”

Levi sets the cup back down, staring into the darkness of what’s left of his coffee.

“Levi.”

Levi jerks his head up, hoping Erwin hasn’t been calling to him while memories he’d yet to combat against tried dragging him back down.

Erwin’s standing, grabbing his coat. Without thinking much on it, Levi collects the papers and stuffs them into the file, which Erwin takes.

“What?” Levi asks when Erwin looks expectantly at him.

Erwin opens the door to his office after tucking the folder away into a bag he now carries. “Let’s walk to Mike’s place. Get the digestion going, remember?”

Levi blinks up at him from his spot on the couch for a moment. Sitting there doing nothing seems dumb and he realizes he’s still holding the cup. He stands as he sets it down, watching Erwin as if he were an animal.

After he gradually plucks his own bag from the ground, he steps out with his head held high. He’s not stupid; Erwin effectively shifted off the topic of his upbringing, but if it was out of understanding Levi’s sentiment on it, or something else, is debatable. Levi thinks he dislikes that more than anything, and refuses to peg Erwin as a considerate type.

When Erwin still says nothing about it, instead shutting the door to his office before following, Levi glances back at him.

“Are you sure you’re up to the walk?” Levi asks. “With your age and all.”

“You can carry me if I get tired.”

“Why would I carry you?”

“I think you could.”

Levi snorts. “I’m not your donkey.”

He notices a few heads in their cubicles turn their way as they weave out of the office. Erwin doesn’t engage with any of them or lower his voice.

“My mistake then,” Erwin says. “The resemblance to an ass was uncanny.”

Levi can’t help his smirk, especially when Erwin chuckles at his own damn joke. It sounds like he doesn’t make enough of them.

They walk in tandem for a few blocks, the dissonance of the city choking off what comfortable silence they might have shared. There are times with the sidewalks require navigating away from each other, and Levi finds that he and Erwin learn each other’s pace easily; at times Erwin cuts in front to utilize his size to carve a path for Levi, and other times Levi creeps through openings he can fit in and mesh back easily with Erwin.

“So,” Erwin says when they’re back side by side, “how does one like yourself end up looking after brats?”

Levi adjusts his bag and doesn’t bother looking over at Erwin. “More personal questions now?”

Erwin maintains vigilance ahead too as he answers, “I’m of the mind you can ask anything. It’s up to the other person to answer or not.”

It’s a motto Levi’s familiar with. Isabel shared the same sentiment, despite scoldings and warnings. Levi forces his hands to relax in his pockets as they cut across a street and diverge to a less congested sidewalk.

“They don’t have the greatest dad,” Levi answers, “Last thing is one of them to cause problems and get the cops all up in the hallway or something.”

Erwin’s opinion on that, if any, remains reclusive. The man knows not to press into matters with the same aggression he physically unleashes on his fighter. Yet, anyway.

“What about your shoulder? How does one like yourself get fucked over so badly?”

At that, Erwin peers up at the clouds tangling overhead. It’s only for a moment, but Levi thinks he catches something in the act.

“Well, the military can do that.”

Levi steps a little closer. Then, he listens.

Erwin details the events of a mission that, ultimately, succeeded, at the cost of several of his men and nearly his own life. He nearly lost his entire arm in the assault, even his damn life when he’d ordered his men to abandon him and pursue the goal. He doesn’t get into the particulars of the whys or hows of the expedition, and Levi doesn’t need to know. Everything he wants is in the way Erwin talks about it, how his eyes manage to stay focused and yet somehow look back in the past, into what must have been a nightmare.

The way Erwin spoke of remembering nothing but bandaging his arm and staggering away from what would have been his grave, one would detach the horror from the reality of what had happened. Erwin lacked the arrogance to flaunt his courage or tenacity. At most, the man seemed to accept the good grace of having made it out alive, but even that he may as well have said it with a shrug. Just a fact that deserved nothing more to be analyzed from.

Levi doesn’t interrupt, maybe reluctant to shut down whatever it is that has Erwin answer him so honestly. Maybe for him, this isn’t information worth cradling in secrecy. Levi glances at the arm that remains testament to Erwin’s, what? Luck? Bravery? Badassness?

“Some of the most boring and frustrating months of my life,” Erwin continues, referencing his rehabilitation. That, Levi doesn’t probe into either, the word uncoiling his thoughts on Isabel and what awaited in her future.

If she has one.

“Yeah,” Levi answers, noncommittal. He rubs a tense spot on his neck and regains his composure.

He glances at Erwin’s arm, wondering just how marred the skin is, how the muscles feel under his fingertips. Back in Levi’s part of town, scars, ugly patches and streaks and gashes that they are, are tales of each time something had not killed you.

“Huh.” Levi gently nudges the arm and picks up the pace. “Guess every part of you is as tenacious as it looks.”

Erwin lags for a heartbeat before, easily, catching the steps. “Tenacious?”

“I don’t think you’d be killed easily.”

It’s not exactly a compliment, but it’s not waving off the piece Erwin shared. It’s something.

Erwin sounds like he’s smiling when he says, “I think the same applies to you.”

“Maybe we’ll end up killing each other.”

“It’s a possibility.”

“You are on the old side though.”

“I’m hardly older than you.”

“You’re still older.” Levi smirks over at him.

Erwin looks ahead, considering that as if it is a fact worth considering. When he sighs, Levi rolls his eyes instead of chuckling like he wants to, the sound Erwin makes more exaggerated than required.

“Guess I am.”

**-x-**

Mike’s Gym arrives in their view too soon for Levi’s liking. The walk invigorated something in him, and eager as his body is to get the intensity revving, Erwin’s company almost outweighs it. Talking closed the length of the walk by half its time at least.

Their communication was balanced. Levi spoke a little more about his shitty building and the colorful, if questionable, characters that lived there. In return, Erwin entertained Levi with hilarities that somehow found roots in military shenanigans, one including a new recruit and a local of another country whose gender and intentions had been mistaken. Erwin mentioned new foods he tried abroad, and Levi admitted he has the intent to try teas from every part of the world he can reach.

Now, as their conversation stilted to make way for the sound of trainees going at it, Levi remembers Mike owns the place, and that he still owes the fucker a punch or two. The comfort of Erwin’s company and the long walk evaporate within moments.

There’s a little fortune today, because Erwin directly guides him to the back where treadmills line up, no Mike close by even after another scan of the area.

“Mike’s occupied,” Erwin says, alerting Levi’s suspicions. “I figured it best we start your evaluation when he’s not around to rile you up.”

“He doesn’t rile me up. He pisses me off.”

Erwin smiles over at a treadmill, tempting Levi to give him the finger. “Let’s not waste time. I reserved one of the rooms for us but I’d like to do some warming up before Hange shows up later. Among other things.”

Levi’s stomach drops several inches. Among the surprisingly pleasant conversation, it was easy to misplace the doctor’s purpose in all this.

No helping it. Levi shrugs off his bag and thin jacket and hops onto the machine at Erwin’s request. It’s awkward, a foreign entity that isn’t real-world appropriate. Mimicking the dips and rises of hills is nothing compared to the real thing, of the force of pushing yourself off with each step.

“This is pointless,” he says. “It’s better to run outside.”

“If you doubt your endurance won’t be properly tested,” Erwin says, leaning over to press buttons. Levi gets a whiff of his scent, and dislikes they aren’t in the private room to start with.

It’s a thought he pushes deep down into himself, far down into the well of his psyche. If Erwin wants to test his caliber, then so be it. Getting it over with takes precedence to the urge to touch Erwin’s hair or tilt down a little closer to his body as the older man tugs out a couple of wires.

They’re fixed to Levi under his shirt, and Erwin’s fingers tease one, two, three butterfly touches along Levi’s skin. Levi fidgets and glares at Erwin’s nice hair.

It’s all a hell of a lot to set up before Levi’s wanting to hop up and down just to get the blood flowing. At least it feels that way, especially when Erwin’s so close, adjusting data into the treadmill, temptingly close and yet a mile away with everyone in the gym aware of them. Levi senses a few looks his way now and then, and makes sure to stab a nasty one back until Erwin’s pushing one last button and the machine thrums to life.

Levi instantly condemns the treadmill. It’s clumsy under his footing, and he’s obligated to start so slow that it insults the elderly. For each time he tries to bitch about it, Erwin silently notes the readings of the machine, and just when Levi’s about to step onto the rails to stop altogether, Erwin slows the pace, easing it back to a stop.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“That was stupid,” Levi says.

“Yes, I think you mentioned that.”

Levi tries to glimpse at what the data reads, but damn Erwin’s genes for shooting him up to the height he is now. Levi frowns at the machine, contemplating if Erwin’s hand will sneak back under his shirt and remove the wires with the same attention as when he placed them on.

Before his thoughts run off with the idea, Levi yanks out the wires himself and hops off. He’s staring up at Erwin, taking note of the focus in the man’s gaze as he skims over whatever the hell he’s reading.

Levi likes to think his staring has an effect because Erwin blinks and lifts his head to look at him. Levi quirks a brow at him.

“Anytime soon I’m actually going to feel like I’m doing shit?”

Erwin lowers his notes altogether, turning away from Levi as he does so. “You’re not tired at all, right?”

“Hell no.”

“Good.”

Levi doesn’t so much as protest to following Erwin when the man moves toward the room they occupied not long ago, data and bag in hand again. Levi hauls his own bag into the room, its padded walls now fresh. Someone has stacked towels and nutrients to refuel in here as well.

Levi lowers his bag and feels his nerves sharpen as Erwin locks the door behind them. Something prickles along his skin when Erwin looks at him, and only him. He hasn’t felt this sort of anticipation in a while and he’s not sure to welcome it or not.

“Now then,” Erwin says. “Get ready.”

Levi gives him a disbelieving look, toeing his bag by the supplied items in the room. He crosses his arms as he says, “For…?”

“You and I. Right here.”

At first, a crude image flares into Levi’s mind, aggravating the tingles on his skin and heating deep into his gut. He wretches it aside and concludes what Erwin must really think, but it’s not any less believable.

“What?” His laugh is more like a scoff. “Fight? You and me?”

“That’s right. You look like you’ve been waiting for the moment.”

Levi has, if only because the prior ones never really counted, Erwin’s behavior having been a product of Levi’s temperament more than anything else. Still, Levi tilts his head in consideration, eyes roving over the covered expanse of Erwin’s right arm.

The man makes an amused noise, and, in a fluid gesture that Levi wishes he can replay, removes his shirt.

The display is nothing to scoff at. Age is a laughable concept when Erwin has discipline and dedication sculpted into his body. Levi can easily doubt Erwin ever needed physical therapy, save for the scarred skin that confirms the agony of Erwin’s trauma. It’s exposed for Levi to see, to judge, to consider its part in the equation of Erwin’s fighting abilities. It looks bad, definitely a handicap.

“I wasn’t really showing you what I could do last time,” Erwin says, and Levi swears it sounds like a tease. The man rolls his shoulder and it cracks like a stubborn bitch.

It must still act up like a bitch too. Levi can barely fathom the amount of work requires for compensating it to look as fit as its left counterpart, though he notices Erwin has to keep it in motion more often than the left. There’s plenty more to take in, but Levi barely has time to make it to Erwin’s collarbone when the older man comes at him.

 _Fucker_!

Levi hops back and leans backward to avoid a blow. The seconds he took to ingrain the sight of Erwin’s body cost him: Erwin uses the angle Levi moved back to swipe out his legs, causing the fighter to shift his weight to his arms to catch the fall and flip backward onto his feet.

This time Erwin doesn’t lash out at him, but Levi sees the composure in his eyes, almost distant. This is unlike any other fighter Pimp set up to afford the roof over Levi’s head, food on his plate, Isabel’s bed in the hospital. Those were against punks and sad fucks like himself aware of the stakes if they lost.

Erwin looks like he has no stakes, like there is no outcome, just the now of staring at his opponent and the breath of the next move.

Levi’s adrenaline skyrockets.

He adjusts his position, observing the way Erwin’s eyes seem able to absorb the entire picture. Levi doesn’t know how long Erwin’s been out of battle, but it’s evident the battle’s never left the confines of Erwin’s mind

A quiet exhale--

Levi spins out, thrusts his fist, retreats, drives up his knee, has the breath knocked out of him when a quick grab and flip of his leg has him crash on the padded floor. He rolls. Erwin’s knee follows and Levi shoves his palm up, catching a strong jaw and awarding himself the time to utilize his agility.

He grabs the bad arm, and he uses a cheap shot to Erwin’s side. He’s not sure why he’s surprised when Erwin elbows him in the sternum and headbutts him with enough force to blacken his vision.

Levi staggers. Blinks spots away and sees Erwin rolling his bad shoulder, crack his neck.

Cheap shot indeed.

Levi goes at him.

Erwin welcomes it.

It’s limbo. Where some fights felt an eternity and others a heartbeat’s length, this feels suspended. Levi’s definitely the faster one, but Erwin knows how to calculate, has training Levi cannot pick up alone on the streets, and that means he’s Erwin’s speed is compensated by precision, and with the strength behind it to have Levi crash back more than once and feel his wind stolen from his lungs.

Erwin doesn’t tease him, doesn’t smirk, chuckle at him, beckon him to try harder. In turn, Levi doesn’t insult him, or snarl at him. He’s all reaction, all adrenaline, heat, and sweat, and a drive to fucking pin Erwin down at least once and grab his fucking perfect hair.

But he doesn’t. He comes close. Cheap shots earn him cheap shots back, squeezes on his bruises, (almost) knees to the crotch, jabs at his eyes. Erwin can probably kill him with two fingers if he really wants to.

It’s thrilling.

It pumps through Levi and heightens his attention, the places Erwin’s abused like sources of delicious, savage heat. He gets in blows that drop Erwin to one knee or stumble back, and begins to believe it’s a matter of time wearing the damaged soldier down before the punk off the street reigns victorious.

It doesn’t happen.

He’s going for Erwin’s bad shoulder again when he miscalculate Erwin’s momentum. With a predator’s speed, Erwin’s grabbed his wrist and Levi’s world spins until he sees a familiar ceiling and both hears and feels his breath go out of him, again.

Erwin’s grip is unrelenting, and his body moors down Levi’s spent one.

Over his face, Erwin’s coated with sheens of sweat, rivulets working their way down over the bumps of his muscle, the groove of his collarbone. A few strands of hair are out of place.

They hold each other’s gaze, Levi’s heartbeat a drumbeat under Erwin’s palm.

He grinds Levi’s wrists with just enough pressure, once, before disengaging from his fighter. Air rushes back into Levi’s lungs.

“Again.”

Levi holds his gaze. He forces himself to stand on strong legs.

They go again.

**-x-**

Levi’s hobbling when Erwin’s finally cleared him of the first day of training-slash-evaluation. Everything aches, down to his fingernails. He doesn’t even have the energy to flip Erwin off for his responsibility in the matter. He can barely feel the cold he’s so sore.

“Do all fighters have to go through this shit?” Levi asks.

If nothing else, Erwin looks like he’s feeling the hits Levi got on him. The man waves from the other side of the entrance to Mike, bidding him farewell for the evening. The gym’s owner showed up later that afternoon, while Levi was occupied being ogled at by Hange as he completed yet another round of plank-related horrors. It's all a blur by now, really, except that fight...

“It’s not this intense everyday,” Erwin explains, purposely slowing his damn pace to match Levi’s crippled one. “You’re just starting out, and tomorrow you’ll have active recovery. You’ll adjust within a month.”

Levi keeps to himself his thoughts on whether or not his body will endure. Then again, the sparring session they’d shared this morning will not be a regular occurrence, that much Levi understands. He revisits it, still unable to count who struck who more. It may not matter when it was Erwin who pinned him down each time, down to the moment Hange’s voice bellowed from beyond the locked door, the sound as sobering as ice water and ending their session as suddenly as Erwin sprung it on him.

Even now, Levi doesn’t know what really brought out the fight. He tells himself he doesn’t care, and instead remembers how vibrant the world felt in that moment, no matter how exhausted Levi’s body felt from each round.

“Lucky me.” Levi glares sideways when Erwin stifles a laugh. “Hope your arm gets so stiff you gotta learn to jack off with one hand.”

“Are you always this mouthy to everyone?"

“Usually. Why do you think I’m so good at fighting? You didn’t fight, you got jumped. Easy.”

“I can only imagine what kind of fights you started with that tongue of yours.”

Levi’s lip twitches. “There’s a bad innuendo in there.”

Erwin smiles his way. Small, but there. It gets lost after a groan as Erwin works his bad arm. “You didn’t go easy on me at all.”

“Why should I?” Levi can hear a little petulance in his own voice. It doesn’t escape him that Erwin has tacts he lacks, as testified by each slam into the padded floors. Even if Levi came close twice to doing the same, he didn’t, even with Erwin's handicap. That says plenty.

“You shouldn’t. I’m relieved you didn’t.” When Levi looks at him expectantly, Erwin adds, “Part of me wanted to see if you’d hold back because of it.”

“Clearly I didn’t need to.”

“You didn’t know that. And it wasn’t easy,” Erwin says, chuckling, dare say almost with an embarrassed tinge to his words. It’s probably for effect. “I certainly can’t do that everyday. I’m going to feel it tomorrow.”

“That makes two of us.”

They walk along in silence for a moment, not unlike old men with the aches and kinks worth a lifetime. The city’s far from quiet, but the veils of the night take refuge where they can from the lights. Levi can hear Erwin’s steps at least, and it’s a far better sound than all that was Hange back at the gym.

Hange left a good hour before he and Erwin did, arms full of data Levi still doesn’t know how was exactly gathered. He'd been so fixated on each exercise Erwin had him do that he didn't even have the vigor to feel anger when Erwin demanded he repeat the process. Submitting to his fatigue would have been worst, most of all in front of Hange.

The doctor isn’t all bad though, Levi supposes, still amused at how long they ranted at Erwin for putting Levi through a sparring session on his first day of training.

“I can’t believe you’re friends with someone so neurotic,” Levi says.

“Says the man who cleaned my office and kitchen.”

“Least I’m not loud about it.” Levi narrows an eye when Erwin smirks at him in response.

Erwin stops walking, half his body touched by the murkiness of the alley to his right. The rest of him is washed by the glow of a street light that picks up on the strays of his hair sticking up not normally visible to the naked eye. They've barely walked a block away.

“You’re loud in your own way,” Erwin says, but Levi’s not paying so much attention to the words as the mouth uttering them.

He comes forward and steps into the alley, familiar with its darkness. With its cover, Levi doesn’t mind reaching up on his toes if it means he gets to feel the familiarity of Erwin’s mouth, guide him a little deeper into the alley. The pressure’s returned, a heavy weight Levi opens up to as a set of fingers snake up the blonde’s neck and along the undercut of his hair.

Levi’s always been fonder of taller men, how little the sentiment visited him, and Erwin’s all the right kinds of tall and big. The way he has to bend to meet Levi’s body gives him a bit of a power thrill, and it rewards him the best angle to steer the kiss. Knowing Erwin can alter it with sheer force though keeps Levi on edge. They didn’t do any of this at the gym today.

The kiss is long and deep, and Levi doesn’t give one fuck as to what this is exactly. Sort-of to-be-bed-mates? Fighter and trainer with a side of fucked-up masochism and sexual focus? Two fucked-up souls just getting it on when the mood hits?

All of it or none makes no difference, especially when Erwin’s tongue pushes against his own. Groans spills out of each of them at some point. For Erwin, it’s when it ends with a soft smack, leaving him to peer down at Levi once more.

“What was that for?” Erwin asks.

“Do I need a reason? You got a nice mouth when you’re not spouting stupid shit out of it and being so fake.”

Erwin’s hands linger on his waist and hip. “I’m not fake.”

“You’re so full of it.” Levi doesn’t remember his voice coming out less hard as he gets a handful of that nice hair and tugs lightly. Smooth to the touch, tangle free. He ignores the ache in his arms from reaching into the blonde strands. “No wonder you’re not married already."

“That’s--”

“Please, spare me. Even my eardrums are tired.”

Erwin laughs, quieter. They peel apart and Levi shuffles up beside Erwin again, damning the cold, now much more apparent without Erwin’s body looming over his own both as a shelter against it and a conductor of heat.

He almost doesn’t realize they’re stepping up to Erwin’s car.

“I can drive you,” Erwin says, already opening the passenger’s side.

Levi frowns at him. “How’d this get here?”

“Mike drove it.”

“Then why didn’t you tell him to park it closer for fuck’s sake.” Levi studies the vehicle, then peers over at Erwin, considering something. “You got paperwork to be doing back home or something?”

“There’s always paperwork to be done it seems. Why do you ask?”

“Forget it.” Levi slips into the car with no reluctance this time. “I’m going to your place.”

Erwin stares at him, leaning against the passenger frame. “Really, now?”

“Like you said, there’s always paperwork, even if I’m there.”

“I didn’t know you liked my company enough--”

“I’ll suck you off again.” Levi indulges in the triumph that spikes through him at Erwin’s face at that. “Knew you were a pervert. Now, will you shut the fucking door and get in so I can turn on the heat?”

Erwin does.

The way over is warm and quiet, the city a hum like an insect. Levi feels Erwin’s hand on his thigh at some point, and relaxes under it. He almost thinks he can let Erwin drive for hours this way.

At Erwin’s place, first thing is a shower. Levi wiped down as best he could at the gym and learned the atrocities of ice therapy, but it's not the same. Neither has he gambled on using public showers if he can help it. That, and there’s an opportunity at Erwin’s place that’s less afforded in the gym.

Erwin doesn’t complain when Levi bullies him into a kiss and demands to know the direction of the bathroom. Clothes is fumbled with, bare hips stroked, sore spots brushed over, and they manage to do it all barely breaking contact with each other’s skin.

Levi grunts when Erwin pushes him against the wall, the tiles cold under his feet. His shirt’s off, and Erwin seems intrigued to reacquaint himself with old and new injuries alike while Levi busies with his hair and dragging his nails along Erwin’s arms.

Erwin’s right arm tenses beneath his touch, but it doesn’t shy away. Levi sags back into the wall and Erwin’s arms as he feels the tension smooth under him as much as it can. There’s underlined stress that Levi knows is from its time healing, but it doesn’t feel any weaker than that of Erwin’s left arm. It must be throbbing from their fight, but of course Erwin masks it.

Levi's hand stops. He realizes Erwin’s stopped nibbling at his neck and is watching him now. Levi rests his hand on Erwin’s shoulder. It’s all he allows, lest the moment fall into the abyss of intimacy, and Levi tilts his head to catch Erwin’s mouth in a harder kiss.

Erwin grinds up against him, his large fingers working his pants off. Levi, frustrated, kicks them off himself before palming Erwin over his briefs. There’s a tongue doing wonderful things down his neck, hands cupping his backside, the very air between them alive with their renewed energy.

When Levi sneaks two fingers in and drags them over the tip of the length, he’s surprised with a surge of power from Erwin; in one movement, he’s lifted off the floor, thighs clamping on instinct around Erwin’s waist as he’s re-pinned to the wall.

Levi finds purchase on Erwin’s shoulders, and he notices he’s the perfect height to tilt forward and mesh with Erwin’s mouth again. He tightens his arms around a strong neck and rocks down so Erwin feels the curve of his backside.

It earns him a moan so deep he can feel it vibrate into his own body. Levi drags out the kiss for that and rocks back again.

Erwin pulls back just enough to speak. “Not that tired, are you?”

“Are you really bitching about this?”

Erwin’s chuckle is perfectly breathless. Another kiss, some awkward balancing to rid Erwin off the last article of clothing, and then there’s nothing but the unique pleasure of their bodies pushing up against another, grinding, mapping the other out with the contours of his own body.

Exhaustion weighs Levi down, but hardly impedes him from squirming out of Erwin’s grip so he can feel the ridges and planes of Erwin’s chest, stomach, and lower, with his tongue alone. Levi reaches the floor with his knees, ignoring the annoying fact that they’ll ache from the position.

It’s worth seeing Erwin sinking back against the wall, on full display, a sculpture far from flawless but worth appreciating. He remembers those eyes from this morning, calculating, easy to mistake as cold. The memory burns through Levi, leaving him aching in different ways.

He lowers his gaze and takes Erwin into his mouth.

This time, Erwin’s either learned from before or tired enough to encourage Levi. Of course the bastard can’t help himself and grab Levi’s hair at one point, controlling the pace and depth to which Levi takes him. Meanwhile Levi scratches along those thick thighs, hard in warning when Erwin’s enthusiasm gets the best of him.

Erwin comes with a groan Levi feels tickling down to his gut, fist in Levi’s hair. It relaxes, and Levi gets up with a wipe of his mouth and a grimace. It sounds like his whole body cracks when he straightens.

“Alright there?” Erwin’s voice is a husk Levi wouldn’t mind listening to all night.

“It’s your fault, what with your half hour stretching that clearly didn’t do shit to--”

Erwin swallows the rant in a kiss that sends the right kind of shocks up Levi’s spine. It’s enough of a distraction to grope for the tub’s faucet. Levi can hardly protest when Erwin’s hand is wrapped around him. It’s a loss when it lets go so Erwin can guide him into the stream of warm water, turning Levi’s back to him.

Levi’s about to ask what he’s up to when he feels something soft and scented of what must be Erwin’s body soap being dragged along his limbs. They quiver, and Levi can’t say it’s because they’re exhausted.

“I can wash myself,” he says, but its lost in a shudder when one of Erwin’s hands comes around and touches him. Levi has to brace himself against the wall, not trusting his strength for the remainder of the day.

Erwin’s less washing now and more pawing. Both hands are bare now, one lathering the outlines of his body, the other pumping him. Erwin’s mouth latches onto the back of his neck, a constant pressure that never lessens, but moves as much as his hands.

Levi presses his forehead to his braced hand, tripping over his breath. His thighs tremble harder, more so when Erwin’s hand comes low and teases along the delicate space behind the curve of his ass.

“Fuck, Erwin…”

Levi has to shut his eyes, the steam, Erwin’s breath against his skin, the streak of water droplets all making him dizzy. Just when he thinks his knees will betray him, he feels Erwin peel away, one hand maintained on Levi’s hip.

He hears the shower stop and the gush of water sputtering from the faucet. There’s little in him to protest when he’s easily tugged down and molded against Erwin’s chest. Levi doesn’t care much about anything beyond the strokes of Erwin’s hand, the heat of his mouth, and the way the water sloshes up against him each time he rocks back into Erwin’s lap.

He thinks he hears himself panting. He’s so fucking tired and wound up at once, dizzy with sensations and the way Erwin breathes his name, lost in the feeling of Erwin handle his thighs further apart, ghost further down as he strokes faster and pulls Levi flush against his body.

Levi’s orgasm has him choke on a cry and shut his eyes tight. His body becomes a single muscle of tension, and then, melts back into Erwin.

“Fuck,” he whispers, or thinks it. Levi slowly blinks. He hears water trickle, and feels more than hears Erwin’s heart against his back. He can’t find it in him to complain that the water they sit in is not so clean anymore.

Erwin makes a sound that sounds like an agreement. Levi’s not sure, and doesn’t mind either way right now. Soon Erwin’s heart is a quieter sensation against his skin, and they don’t talk as they laze in the tub, and later Levi will marvel that they both had fit in with relative ease, Erwin’s thigh flanking him, bent at the knees.

Just as later, he’ll think how pathetic it was that he dozed off right then and there, and think less on the fact that he’ll wake up in Erwin’s bed the next morning.

**-x-**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with another chapter! I think the not-so-old-men are warming up to each other faster than they expect. I hope to delve a little more into Erwin's personality in the next chapter, and who knows what else!
> 
> Random, weird fact: David Guetta's "Hey Mama" was what helped me write the fight scene and then the shower scene.
> 
> Thanks again for the support. It really motivates me to write even though I know I take so long! Sorry for any errors. I tried combing through it twice (but who knows if that helped much).
> 
> Any questions/further comments can be sent on my tumblr: hisboywriter
> 
> ❤


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi feels more than a little ridiculous padding out of Erwin’s room--wearing Erwin’s shirt.

 

**-x-**

Levi feels more than a little ridiculous padding out of Erwin’s room--wearing Erwin’s shirt.

Only Erwin’s shirt.

It’s dark blue and almost laughable how it dangles off him like he’s made of too little angles and less meat. It is, however, a respective step up from the button-downs Levi found rummaging (partially snooping) through Erwin’s drawers. He wasn’t about to look too much like one of those damn girl's in her boyfriend’s shirt with a few buttons undone.

Somehow he’s convinced himself this is much better. A little.

In truth he would have gone stark naked, modesty be damned, if Erwin’s house wasn’t _so_ fucking cold. It was a sobering realization when Levi tried to make his way to the bathroom.

Having awoken in what was a king-sized slice of luxury, Levi felt the spot beside him cold and he knew he’d slept alone. He might have not given much thought on that, but he certainly lingered, picking up the scent of the bed’s owner, felt the soft blanket against his bare skin whilst he basked in what had been one of the better nights of sleep he’d ever gotten.

Then, memories.

Shower. Touching. Orgasm.

Dozing off again after being jacked off.

Levi moaned lightly, for more reasons than one. The bed was too accommodating to make him want to bitch about where the night left him. He stretched (a few things popped) out as much as he wanted and there was still bed on either side of him. It sunk in that it was his first time in a bed of this size, and he caught an image in his mind of how Erwin must look in it.

Gradually he’d hauled himself out of the bed upon hearing no signs from beyond the adjar bedroom door. A wash up and checking his phone (two unimportant messages from Eren), there Levi discovered a dilemma of no clothing.

Hence, the descent down padded stairs in nothing but the stupid shirt. Levi tries to not think how comfortable it feels, wrong size and all.

 _A couple times getting each other off and you’re losing your head._  Levi tells himself he just needs some food and caffeine to realign himself so, to refuse the mourning of his pants, and take a little pride that he’s not as sore as he could be after that first day of training. He’s had post-fights worse than this.

Erwin’s place is as he remembers, meaning pretty bare and looking more like it was bought with all the furnishings and decor included. The only frames fixed on the walls are of art Levi knows shit about and can only guess also came with the house. There are, however, more bookcases than Levi previously saw. He can see them as he reaches the bottom, heavy looking things with books that all look to have been worn through, with affection.

Levi thinks maybe books are the only thing to get that from Erwin.

It’s a minor thought he doesn’t let get the best of him, easily so when he spots the man in question, sleeping on the same couch Levi remembers dozing off on. Erwin’s tucked onto his good arm, and there’s a laptop half-closed on the coffee table in front of him, its light pulsing almost in tandem with Erwin’s breath.

Of course Levi stares.

He’s not sure what he expects watching the man sleep. Erwin looks relaxed, at least not plagued by a current nightmare. The couch is dwarfed by his body stretched out on it, and there's not even a blanket over him. Even his hair barely looks out of place. For an instant, Levi almost can believe he is the type to sleep through earthquakes.

But then he takes a few steps closer, and Erwin’s eyes open. He's strung tight in the span of the next breath.

Guess they have that sleep habit in common. 

“You are a workaholic,” Levi says in greeting, coming around so Erwin can see him. The tension in him ebbs.

Erwin does need a moment to blink himself out of sleep though, and when he takes in Levi, his ogling is a little more obvious. Levi might have appreciated seeing the almost open expression on his face if it wasn’t a reaction to the get-up he’s in.

“That’s my shirt.”

“You took off my clothes.”

Erwin’s lip twitches. “They’re in the dryer.” He props up, winces and rolls the bad shoulder. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

Erwin squints at him.

Levi starts to shrug until he feels the fabric riding up his thighs. “I don’t usually sleep in this much.”

“Me neither.”

“Do you have to be at the office?”

Erwin scrubs his face with one hand. “No, it’s fine. I was going to spend it with you and your training. Hange will want to meet up later I’m sure.”

“You already are thinking about work aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who asked me if I had to be at the office.”

“I was being considerate, asshole.”

Erwin actually laughs, and it’s a little guttural from having just woken up. Levi likes the sound.

“Well, thank you,” Erwin stands into a stretch, “I think.”

Levi narrows his eyes. “Stop staring.”

“I like that shirt.”

“Is that a serious comment?”

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

“You’re a real asshole when you wake up, aren’t you?” Levi is far too heavy from a good sleep to waste the first act of flipping Erwin off. Instead, he maneuvers around the couch and pads to the kitchen (damn, cold tiles) in search of tea or coffee.

“I can go get your clothes.”

Levi casts a look over his shoulder to confirm Erwin still staring, though he looks like he's trying not to be. “You’re an actual pervert. Why am I surprised?”

He swears he can see Erwin smirking despite the distance.

“Are you hiding your pocket knife on you still?”

Levi sets down a couple of mugs harder than necessary and turns. “Why not come closer and see if I shank you?”

Erwin does come closer, but only to the kitchen’s edge. “Have you shanked a lot of people?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“You don’t answer a lot of them.”

Levi studies him, smirks, then resumes the hunt for caffeine.

“Top left,” Erwin tells him.

Levi tugs down the coffee and drags over the hell of a nice machine Erwin has that better make the best damn coffee there is, for all the buttons and pieces it has. 

“What are you smiling about?” Erwin asks.

“You want to play that game already?”

“Game?”

“Asking questions, answering them, back and forth.”

Erwin sounds amused when he says, “You’d be willing to play?”

“God, you’re fucking annoying so early. More than Eren. Will you go wash the fuck up and leave me alone for a few--” Levi’s words shrivel up the instant he feels Erwin press up behind him, strong arms looped around him, hands pawing.

He’s not sure if he’s more mad at himself for not having sensed Erwin’s approach.

“How do you feel today?” It takes Levi several, suddenly sped up heartbeats, to realize Erwin’s hands are less pawing and more massaging his muscles.

Levi hates himself for not shrugging the man off. He sinks back, assessing.

“My legs are the worst. Everything’s a little sore. Been worse.”

“That’s good.”

Then, like a sudden exhale, Erwin’s leaves him to the cold tile floors and empty mugs. It may be a good thing Levi’s accustomed to feeling groggy and can shake off the feeling that tries to stick with him upon Erwin’s departure. With a curse, he starts the coffee.

Breakfast is ready when Erwin comes downstairs, fresh, in comfortable clothing that still looks fancier than anything Levi owns.

“You made breakfast?”

“Dumb question. Took you long enough.” Levi sets Erwin’s plate and coffee at the high counter accommodated with bar stools. He bets they’ve barely been used. “And before you go off on work-related shit, I made sure the portion sizes were to your meal plan. Lots of protein.”

Erwin doesn’t look like he’s about to complain. He’s almost smiling as he saddles up at the counter, accepting the cup of coffee first. Levi comes to sit beside him.

“I was checking my email. You’re just going to stay in my shirt?”

Levi’s eye twitches. He makes a point of looking directly at Erwin as he wiggles down on the shirt that’s separating him from the cushion of the stool. “Seems like it’s my shirt now.”

Erwin’s definitely smiling now. “You can have it.” He sips the coffee. “Looks better on you, anyway.”

Levi stabs at his omelette with more force than necessary.

They don’t talk, not at first, the only sounds rising from the clink of utensils and sips of caffeine. Levi prefers it like that, and can’t be sure if Erwin’s the same or doing it out of politeness. When Erwin makes for a second round of coffee, though, he speaks.

“We should pick a word.”

Levi eyes the way Erwin pours the coffee with his better hand. It must be aching like mad today. Levi’s kind of satisfied about that.

“Word?” he asks, palm open for his drink again.

“You called it a safe word.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what that is.” Levi takes a sip despite how it scalds his tongue. “Shouldn’t we have done that before you came at me yesterday?”

Erwin just looks at him, and Levi averts his gaze with a snort.

“Guess it wasn’t important then.”

“It’s the best way to know if I’m pushing you too much, especially if you start mouthing off because you’re sick of training.” Erwin sounds like he’s on the verge of smiling again. “And I assure you, you will get sick of it. The worst its yet to come.”

Levi drops his chin into his free palm. Funny how this isn’t a topic that bothers him over breakfast. “Is that so? Fine. We’ll pick a word. After you answer my question.” He allows a pause to see if Erwin protests. “How bad does your arm hurt today?”

Sitting forward again, Erwin turns his head to look at Levi. “Is this the game?”

Levi quirks a brow, expectant.

“It hurts a lot,” Erwin says.

“No painkillers?”

“I believe it’s my turn.”

Levi rolls his eyes but concedes with a wave of his hand.

“Do you resent me for fighting you yesterday?”

“No. Why should I? That doesn't count as my question.”

Erwin chuckles. He doesn’t respond right away, instead looking into his cup. “I’ve seen you fight more than once, Levi. I think a part of me was selfishly motivated to go up against you.”

“You’ve been watching me, then.”

“Three fights, to be exact.” Erwin casts him a side glance that’s almost sheepish. “Mike knows a little about the underground fighting. He steered me and some coworkers in the right direction.”

“Ch. How many do you recruit from the slums?”

“I believe we’ve covered this. You’re actually the first.”

Levi’s eyes narrow. “Why is that though?”

“Ah, ah. My turn. I’m behind two questions.”

Levi resists the need to sigh.

“How long have you been fighting like that?” Erwin asks. “And how often do you win?”

“Years. I’ve lost count,” Levi says, and it’s not a lie. He’s been throwing fists as young as he can remember. “And I’ve never lost one of those fights.”

“Impressive.”

“A lot of morons tend to give up, or some technicality fucks it up.”

“I wasn’t aware of technicalities in illegal fights,” Erwin says.

“Well,” Levi shrugs, “you know. Cops can show up. Losses get cut. You think things go so smoothly in a fight like that?”

“I suppose that goes into the question you have about why you’re the first. The risks aren’t worth it.”

“Your company’s desperate for a win?”

“We need a strong fighter, someone that’s more than a fighter.”

Levi considers those words as he indulges in his drink. “A poster boy.”

“People enjoy an underdog.” Erwin flashes him a smile. “Two questions for me again.”

“You’re really keeping track…”

“Did you know you mumble in your sleep?”

Levi feels his stomach coil. “I do not.”

“I would call it cute, but I don’t think you’d appreciate that. You don’t make much sense when you do it though, if that’s any consolation.”

“Yes, a great one.” Levi’s long since had his masters in sarcasm. “Second question.”

Erwin falls silent, as if contemplating. Just when Levi’s stomach is tightening that much and he’s thinking Erwin’s going to drop a heavy question, the man looks over and asks, “Sweet or spicy?”

It surprises Levi. He straightens slightly in his seat. “Spicy. Same question to you.”

“Hm. Sweet.”

“Typical.”

“Sunsets or sunrises?”

“Seriously, now?” Levi shakes his head.  “No, that doesn’t count as a question. Sunrises. Hot or cold?”

“Depends.”

“The weather, you fucking pervert.”

“Cold. Do you really think I’m a pervert?”

“No, I know it. Why don’t you realize you’re a pervert?”

“Maybe the same reason you don’t realize you’re a masochist, Levi.”

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Ha, that's a question, _Erwin_. Saying it like you’re my boss or something.”

“I thought I was saying it like I was your trainer.”

“Do you like being in a position of control?” Levi asks. “Because if you say no, you’re lying to me.”

“I do,” Erwin raises his hand as if to stop the flood of Levi’s insults, “but because I like knowing things get done right.”

“I’m sure you’ve had a string of lovers who were eager to humor that.”

“Are you one of them?”

“Is that your question?”

“Is that _your_ question?”

Levi smirks. Erwin smiles back.

Then, the former soldier laughs. “I think I confused myself with this game.”

“That’s why you lose.” Levi hops off the stool, tired of his feet dangling, and that’s yet another thing he can’t help. He’s just as tired thinking about kissing Erwin so much that he recently caught himself rubbing his lips together.

“Then one last question,” Erwin says, turning in his seat. “Have you thought of what word we’ll use?”

Levi has, and there’s far too little that won’t jump off his tongue so easily. He considered convoluted words, random ones, and knew in a moment of rage or worse, they would not be memorable to get Erwin to back off--if he could.

That left a little piece of himself, and Levi felt the gamble long before he spoke it aloud.

“Not a word. A name.”

Erwin waits, patient.

Levi doesn’t allow himself to loiter or hesitate, lest it be a testament to how powerful the name is on him.

“Isabel.”

He looks at Erwin, purposely impassive, and half-anticipates a follow-up question. It never comes, and Erwin nods instead.

“Alright,” and Levi doesn’t know why but there’s a surge of relief when Erwin doesn’t repeat her name, “then that’s one thing to check off.”

“And what’s the rest?”

“Recover your muscles,” Erwin says, stepping off his stool. Standing, it’s easy to have forgotten how tall he is. “But first…”

He turns away, but Levi swears he must be smiling again.

“Let’s get your clothes.”

 

**-x-**

 

It’s strange that the day’s not a fuck-up. Levi’s not accustomed to it, and less so of being in someone’s company for an extended time period where he didn’t want to end it with a punch. It’s easier to blame it on Erwin’s good looks than anything else, but Levi knows, if in the farthest corner of his mind, that a handsome face alone does shit for him.

Active recovery isn’t all that much recovery. Levi’s muscles are still tested, and more so his flexibility. Erwin has him on a mat and conducting what really feels like a lot of yoga crap that puts him in straining positions.

Each time Erwin’s hands are on him, adjusting, easing a sore spot, Levi feels the heat pulse through him. Like a damn teenager.

But they don’t get anything on, and Levi doesn’t mouth off much, far too controlled in his breathing to maintain the god-forsaken lengths of time Erwin keeps him posed. He's sure the one where his ass is hiked up in the air is more for Erwin's benefit than his own.

It’s something Levi thinks he can get use to though, just him, Erwin, and the limits of his body.

“You’re far more flexible than I thought,” Erwin says when they’re done.

Levi’s showered, in his own clothing once more, and with a new addition of Erwin’s shirt in his bag. They’re in the backyard, and Levi may be marveling at the size. There is a wall high enough to block out the nuisances of neighbors, and hedges beyond that that isolate them the way Levi likes. There’s even a wicker table in front of the cushioned outdoor bench, where Levi’s placed his phone and the remains of his early afternoon meal.

“Don’t sound too excited about it,” Levi says, stretching out his legs onto Erwin’s lap. Understanding, the older man squeezes his aching calves. “I think I like this, you at my muscles’ beckoning call.”

“I do have to keep you in good form.”

Levi leans back on a laughably big pillow that he’s sure Erwin didn’t pick out for the bench. “At least tell me if there’s a time for my first fight.”

“It’s a ways away. Two months.”

“That sounds soon.”

“Most fighters train double that, at least, before the fight. I got you short notice.”

Levi tilts his head into his hand, all but basking in the sight of Erwin shamelessly.

After a moment, Erwin holds his gaze. “What is it?”

“I think you’re bullshitting me.” Levi glances back to the glass door and the interior of Erwin’s home beyond. “All that furniture, even this bench, did it come with the home?”

“Is this part of the bullshitting remark?”

Levi levels a stare, and Erwin follows his previous gaze to his house. His hands continue to squeeze.

“Yes,” Erwin says.

“Thought so.” Levi grunts as he adjusts his position, feet propping up on the armrest so Erwin can access the tendons of his ankles better. “I get the feeling you weren’t really there just on the behalf of your job. I think someone convinced you to do something different under the guide of ‘work’, you know, to make it easier for you to agree, and you were looking for an easy lay.”

Erwin chuckles through his nose. It’s a little humorless, and he’s not looking directly at Levi now.

“An easy lay, hm?”

“You know how you look, and you’re far from stupid. That means you know when women, and some men, I’m sure, are all but spreading their legs for you.”

“I’m not sure if you’re complimenting me.”

Levi jabs his ribs with the heel of a foot. “Maybe things changed, or they haven’t, I don’t know or really give a fuck, but you can’t deny I’m wrong. You wanted a little something that puts up a fight, that makes it worth bringing them back to your bed, even a little dangerous.”

Erwin looks at him again, unreadable, and yet, Levi feels the pressure from his hands increase ever so slightly.

It’s the equivalent of a bell signaling Levi’s victory. “Every man needs a way to let out tension," Levi adds.

“So I’m tense.”

“Something gets you ticked. You’re less a robot than you everyone thinks.” Levi feels he can stay lazing like this, Erwin massaging his legs, his face comfortable in his hand, studying Erwin for hours, even if it leads him through a maze.

Gradually, the hands go still on top of his legs, still hot even through the fabric of Levi’s sweats. Erwin’s gaze seems to be on his own hands.

“What else?” Erwin asks.

The question surprises Levi, enough that he lifts his head off his palm. Erwin doesn’t say more, but Levi feels like his patience is enough to tell him the full question. 

So, Levi contemplates. Meanwhile, Erwin’s hands reach up above his knees.

Suppressing a groan, Levi says, “You read a lot. Is that what you do when you’re not working to an early grave?”

“A lot of people read a lot.”

“A lot of pretentious shit?”

Erwin peeks over at him, a hint of a smile. Seems to happen often around Levi. “I like a lot of classics, but I wouldn’t say that’s pretentious. I read other things too. Fantasy.”

“Fantasy.”

“You sound surprised.”

Levi stews in his own analysis, but it’s his gut still telling him that it’s not a lie. “I figured more a Shakespeare type of fan.”

Erwin’s laugh is a quieter one, and yet as strong as any other. It’s a welcome addition to the early afternoon. “I’m not that interested in Shakespeare. Are you?”

“Read it. Don’t feel the need to read any of his works again.”

“Ah, school read?”

Levi hates that his muscles flex at that. He has to pretend Erwin missed it under his fingertips, just as he pretends particular memories no longer burden him and aren't clawing out of the deepest corners of his mind.

“Something like that.”

Erwin’s face turns toward him.

“You didn’t go to school?”

Levi finds more trouble in building a lie about that. He makes a point to shrug and look disinterested as he says, “Home-schooled, technically. I didn’t finish, and I’m not exactly college material.”

“That man taught you.”

Of course Erwin’s reached the right conclusion in the span of a few blinks. It’s not even phrased as a question.

“It was a thorough education,” Levi replies. The words hang off, precarious, and with the same ambiguity that he’s recently on the receiving end from Erwin.

Erwin’s eyes barely narrow, but Levi catches it. Then, the man's turning away, attention on his hands. They stop squeezing again.

“My father,” Erwin says after a moment, “encouraged my like for reading. He’s adamant it opens up your mind, makes you question things.”

Levi doesn’t point out that Erwin’s voice falls a little melancholic. It’s not something he’s heard in the other's voice as of yet, and it sucks him in, so much that he thinks speaking prematurely will shut down whatever peek into Erwin he’s getting now.

“But it’s that which had him lose his job, ruin his reputation as an educator, and much more.”

The urge to pry heightens. Levi knows better, years cultivated living in a place where you learned when to mind your tongue so you wouldn’t wake up with a knife in your back. The urge is there all the same.

“You hold your old man in high esteem,” Levi says, without any bite.

Erwin smiles, nods. “I know t be grateful for having a father like him.”

“Well,” Levi kicks off his feet and sits up beside Erwin, “if he got you hooked into reading, he’s far from a bad father.” He glances sideways and sees the smile on Erwin ebbing. “Good to know you don’t have daddy issues.”

The smile twitches back to life.

Levi makes his own assumptions with how it must be to watch a father be stripped of what he must have worked hard for, the helplessness that leaves you with nothing but platitudes, and the aftermath of it never going away. 

“I guess you do that fine on your own,” Erwin says.

“Fuck you.”

Erwin laughs. Levi’s response is to saddle up on his lap and tug on a few strands of his pretty hair.

“Are you scared you’ll become like that, lose everything?” Levi asks, keeping his grip in Erwin’s hair light, non-threatening, though the itch to yank it hard never has left him completely.

 "I never pegged you as the talkative type," Erwin says.

"I always talk a lot."

Erwin holds his gaze, barely flinches. His hands though, come to anchor down on Levi’s hips, and it’s a feat not to think that it feels like ages have passed since Erwin's fingers have left indents on his body, leaving him sore in a way so unlike training, or a fight.

“Truth is worth any loss,” Erwin says, so assured you’d think it was gospel.

Levi searches his gaze. No withering in his resolve, no matter how long he stares. He scoffs, eases up on his grip and presses closer.

“You read too much,” Levi says. He’s leaning forward, feels Erwin’s fingers crawl to his lower back, their mouths tickling as they begin to brush.

Levi’s phone rings.

_Fuck._

Of course it does.

The sound cuts through the mood and sabotages Levi’s arousal with every shriek it gives off. It’s the ring he’s assigned to Mikasa and Eren, and he’s fallen flaccid before the third peel of his damn phone. Levi drops his head to Erwin’s shoulder with a groan before leaning back to swipe his phone off the wicker table.

Levi glares down at Eren’s name.

“One of your kids?” Erwin asks.

“Shut up.”

Levi answers. “What is it?”

**“Um. Sorry, I don't know if this really qualifies as an emergency, but, er, there's this guy. I think he's looking for you."**

Levi tries to ignore Erwin’s fingers kneading the area around his hips. It makes it difficult to lean away so Erwin can’t hear the noise that is Eren's voice.

“What guy? What makes you say that?”

**“I've never seen him before. I heard him a little, asking for someone who lives in the building. That is, um..."**

Levi’s untangled from Erwin now, stepping several yards away, back facing him. Logic should bring up a slew of faces in the database that have a bone to pick with Levi, and fewer still that would know where he lived, if at all. Yet, it’s one face that eclipses all of theirs, and it’s like a nightmare, and it’s only Kenny’s face Levi can see each time he blinks.

“Spit it out.”

**“Something along the lines of a midget with a, well, uh, a bitchy face in need of a punch or, a...cock down his throat."**

Levi breathes out the relief, masking it as an annoyed exhale. There is one particular person (if you are generous enough to consider him that--and Levi isn’t) with a tongue for poetry like that. And as if describing someone like that would make anyone inclined to answer you. Though Eren's detailed recollection of the description has Levi think the brat's a lot closer to the source of the trouble than he's making himself out to be.

Levi wills his voice steady. “What’s he look like?”

**“Sandy blonde hair, kind of...pudgy, I guess. Like he might have been a football player...”**

“Yeah, I know him.” Levi casts a peek back to ensure Erwin hasn’t tried eavesdropping.

**"You know him?"**

“His nose is kind of flat, right?”

  **"Yeah..."**

“My fist did that.”

**"Oh."**

Levi can hear the apprehension in every breath Eren takes. “Just...Listen, I’ll be there. Stay out of sight.”

**"Okay."**

Levi hangs up and can’t feel bitter for any omnipotent forces trying to screw him over. It never did make your pain better blaming it on someone else, he learned early on. Still, aggravation puts him into fast motion.

“Something wrong?” Erwin asks. He’s standing now, keeping distance.

“No. I gotta head back though to take care of something.” Levi is pleased it’s easy to keep it vague. With that sharing of Isabel’s name, he was sure he was startling to lose his wits around Erwin just because they had a sparring match and rubbed dicks together.

He can feel the man staring though as he goes inside for his bag.

“I’ll take a cab,” he says, “but I’ll text you when I’m heading back. Or something. Hange won’t die waiting if i’m late.”

“Let me take you back.”

“No.” Levi makes sure it’s hard, not allowing an open conversation about his choice. He thumbs his phone to request a cab, bag hoisted over his shoulder. “I’ll talk to you later.”

"Levi-"

"I said I'll talk to you later."

He's out the door and makes it a point to have the cab meet him a good ten minute walk away just so he doesn’t have to wait for it in Erwin’s company. It forces him to a jog to catch it when it arrives, and when he glances back, he tells himself it's not because of Erwin.

 

**-x-**

 

Levi makes it just in time to catch Mikasa’s bicep and prevent her fist plowing into the goon’s face.

“I thought I told you to stay out of the way,” he says, jerking her back because she’s monstrously strong and a little tug won’t have the force to stop her from beating someone should she want to.

Mikasa’s eyes widened at his arrival, but her expression shuts flat. She shrugs her arm free and gives the fallen brute a look that might one day turn bone to ash. “He was harassing an elderly woman.”

“He was talking a lot of shit,” Eren adds, a good feet away from Mikasa, as if he had been chucked aside by her and probably because he was going for the first punch himself.

The goon, meanwhile, looked like he’d already been thrown over her shoulder. He is grabbing at his face, stumbling up to his feet, his expression contorted with all the colors of his anger. Being in an alley of the building didn’t seem to do much to relieve his humiliation.

With that wide body and flat nose, Levi's always called him Piggy. Sometimes to his face.

“Fucking bitch--”

“You’re looking as ugly as ever,” Levi says in greeting. He’s already standing in front of the kids, employing his entire body (not that there’s much).

“Levi.” The name sounds like a curse. “Didn’t realize you knew this kind of company. Getting your kicks with kids now, huh?”

“I’m tempted to break your nose again.”

An eye twitch from Piggy and his massive paws clench, unclench. Levi watches his hands, mindful this idiot has a low level of tolerance and probably the kind of shitty childhood that makes him so eager to do Pimp’s dirty work.

“I owe you a punch,” Piggy says. It’s a big show of him taking a deep breath to calm his rage. Levi wonders if he knows how to even count to ten. “But, I’m not here for that.”

Levi wants to tell the brats to get lost, but there’s the problem of Piggy seeing it as a weak spot, which it may already be given the way Mikasa and Eren spoke him him like they know him. Shit.

"How did you find this place?"

"You don't think Pimp just now knows you hold up here? You don't give him enough credit."

No, Levi gives him plenty of credit, but none of it is the good kind. He feels his jaw tighten though he knows he can't say more on that matter, not now.

“Whatever your master wants," Levi says, "tell him to shove it up his ass where the rest of your nose is.”

Piggy's fists clench again.

“That mouth of yours is really going to fuck you up again one day.”

“I’m not interested in what Pimp wants.”

“There are new stakes, and Pimp’s got good word that it’ll rake in at least double the average you were getting.” It’s clear Piggy is relaying information he’s probably been rehearsing in his head to not forget, just as it’s clear he rather not be the one doing it facing Levi.

Levi pretends the near starvation for money isn’t there just one layer under his control. Instead, he snorts. “The fuck you mean stakes?” He shouldn’t be asking.

“Jacked up fighters. You good enough they wanna make it more exciting.”

Drugs? Levi sneers. “You’re here to get my answer, right? I told you it, and add a ‘fuck you’ while you’re at it.”

“You shouldn’t talk about Pimp that way. You can still get back on his good side.” Piggy makes a nasty sound that might be an attempt at a laugh. “I bet you can be one of his girls, have an easier life. He talks about it still.”

"What you can bet isn't worth the shit in these alleys."

Piggy's eyes alight and this time his fists stay balled. The smile that creeps in the crack of what he has for a mouth is easily one of the most nasty things Levi's seen.

"Funny, given how he says your Big Daddy himself tried to pawn you off as one of Pimp's girls."

Levi's reaction betrays him, and he knows it when Piggy's choke of a laugh is loud in this tiny alley. It's a nickname Levi's not heard in years, even though he'd been doing business with the snake who had given Kenny that name as a joke. Though the thing with Pimp is that nothing is ever really a joke.

"I like that look on your face," Piggy says, unable to shut the fuck up on his own. "You acting like you don't know your old man's got eyes and ears out here still, all on you, and word is he'll be out sooner than you-"

“You know what," Levi says, louder, "I changed my mind."

Piggy blinks. "Uh?"

"I was seriously reconsidering being one of Pimp's, but then I thought," Levi trails off just enough to stare dead straight into those beady eyes, "you'd look far better on your knees than me, make them squeal the way only you can,  _Piggy_."

“You little fucking piece of shi--”

Levi kicks his face in before he can land a blow. Piggy's body tumbles down and he's not about to get anytime soon. That hardly matters, not when Levi's stalking closer, foot ready to crush his wind pipe, when a sound jerks him out of the violence. It's Eren, who's gotten closer, his shoes scratching the uneven ground here and now gone still as he catches Levi's wild stare on him.

Levi slowly lowers his foot, collects his wits. He glances down at the moaning sack that is Piggy and imparts final words with all the cruelty his fists and feet would have otherwise delivered.

“I’ll break your fucking eye sockets if I ever see you around here again.”

It’s all the warning he gives before he’s marching off into the building, giving the brats one look that won’t tempt them to linger.

The silence as they ascend the stairs is eerie, but Levi feels he's in a vortex created by the chaos of his thoughts, the blood crashing through him, fury building with each step to their floor. When Levi reaches for his key to the kids’ apartment, he realizes he’d been clenching his hands so hard they crack when he relaxes them. He curses under his tongue and opens the door, waiting for them to go in.

He doesn’t give either of them a chance to ask questions.

“You see him again, you call me, got it?”

Eren nods quickly. It takes Levi a moment to revisit the way Eren looked at him in the alley.

Looking away, he asks, “He didn’t do anything to you two?”

“He said some nasty things about Mikasa,” Eren says, hissing when Mikasa pinches him. “And he was bothering that old woman downstairs that’s always making muffins! We couldn’t just--”

“It’s fine.” Levi doesn’t think it is, but anything to shut Eren up. “Just keep an eye out. Don’t engage next time.” He glances to Mikasa. “He’s not smart enough to plot revenge, but he won’t forget what you did.”

Mikasa shrugs. “I won’t allow anyone to try and hurt Eren or someone like that old woman.”

Fair enough, and Levi’s aware he can’t stop her. Right now, it almost doesn't matter.

“Are you alright?”

It’s a question that’s never left Mikasa and directed at Levi. He follows her line of sight to his hand trembling where it grips the doorknob.

Eren straightens a little more. “Levi, about what he sa--”

“Drop it.” Levi levels him with a stern face. “That’s not for you to know about.”

“But--”

“Will you fucking listen for once?” Levi hates how mean it came out, like a bark, and the way Eren flinches makes him think he’s gotten that kind of tone as a young kid before. It’s a stupid thought. Levi runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands and suddenly thinking of Erwin’s hand there.

God, he needs to punch something.

“Look,” he tries again, “that’s not a crowd I want you guys around, alright? They don’t hold back because women are involved or even kids.”

He doesn’t even ask if they understand, can’t bother to wait. The agitation is humming through him, and then screeching as if under his skin, and he’s shutting the door hard behind him, all but bolting out of there before he can be followed.

He already knows where he’ll end up.

Petra’s gym is surrounded by familiar quiet, save for the concoction of street noise, but even here, it’s more white noise than a nuisance and it does nothing to calm him. The run over barely took off the worst of his ire, and on the way he hadn’t seen Piggy around, which let him think he was in the clear. For now.

Inside, Petra sees him, and her smile is quickly relaxed to something neutral when she takes him in. She merely nods at him, tosses him new wrappings for his hands, and returns to her own business.

Levi accepts the gift and is soon pounding the living hell out of a bag.

He doesn’t wrap his hands.

He imagines Pimp’s face, with that rat’s smile, as he crushes his knuckles into the bag. He re-breaks Piggy’s nose hundreds of times, punches that fucking kid from that all-out fight because he should have better parents to keep him away from that kind of shit, he knees Mike in the groin a few times for the hell of it, and then it’s the faces of all the fuckers he wanted to do more than just punch in the face.

Then it’s Kenny’s face, and Levi can’t control himself. The rage is an illness suddenly sinking into his muscles, his nerves, so raw and bitter and unlike the quiet and calm of the morning. It feels like he’s not even in the same universe as the one where he’s sitting in Erwin’s patio.

He can’t beat Kenny to a pulp, and each time he tries, guilt turns his stomach into a mess.

Then he’s punching the ghosts of Isabel, of her grins, of how she looked at the world like it isn’t the shithole it can really be, and still he can't stop. He remembers her laughter so vividly that not even the roar of his blood or the smack of the punching bag can fool him otherwise.

He sees her face going gray, the fear so great in her eyes Levi was sure she’d die that night. He sees her crumpling, looking at him because she always did that when she didn’t know what to do.

Farlan goes down next.

Farlan’s warm eyes glassing over pitches Levi away from the punching bag. The nausea overwhelms him, like it’s filling every part of his body, even behind his eyes. He doesn’t care and makes himself punch more.

There’s the hint of his name among the memories, and then, suddenly, it’s not a memory, but Erwin’s voice, and strong arms are around him, and it’s instinct that has Levi try to bash his head back into the assailant’s face, but it’s dodged, and the sickness almost doubles him over but those arms are holding him up, holding so tight that Levi almost doesn’t want to fight.

“Levi.”

It is Erwin’s voice.

Levi’s attention snaps into better focus. He’s at least five feet away from the bag, and the arms around him are Erwin’s, and the smell engulfing him is Erwin’s.

He feel like he can’t breathe.

“Deep breath.” It’s an order.

Levi obeys it, and again when he’s told to exhale, then inhale again.

The arms soften just enough to help him steady his balance. The sick feeling wanes, a little, and Levi shrugs away completely, whirling around when he finally remembers that Erwin shouldn’t be here.

But he’s there, standing on the mat, his concern either a figment of Levi’s mind or really there.

“How the hell did you find me?” Levi wishes he didn’t speak. He sounds like he’s been crying, even though he wasn't. He doesn’t cry.

Erwin looks away, and that’s all it takes.

“You followed me?”

“I was going to leave when you went in the building but then you came out running like your life depended on it.”

Levi wipes sweat from his forehead, turns away. “I’m fi--”

“You’re not fine.”

“You fucking followed me.”

“I was worried.”

“Get out.”

“No.”

It’s stupid, and Levi will silently concede to that later, but right now, his body reacts to Erwin’s obnoxious stubbornness. The blow doesn’t land, and he’s cursing too late when the man’s tackled him, grabbing his arm, trying to pin him.

Levi makes a feral sound and thrashes, having the full intent of at least kicking the bastard in the balls. He can’t, his moves sloppy from fatigue and irrationality. It’s a handicap worse than Erwin’s bitch of an arm, because he crashes onto his stomach, arm pinned behind him and lower back pinned by the enormity of Erwin’s body.

“You need to calm down.” In that fucking commanding tone, even if it is a breathless one against Levi’s ear.

Levi yanks hard in response and bites down on a cry at the pain shooting up his arm. Erwin’s fingers are in his hair then, yanking, forcing his face up, exposing the delicacy of his throat. Erwin’s knee manages to keep his arm pinned while his other hand clutches his jaw.

It feels like hours, Levi resisting, spitting out choice words in between groans and hisses when Erwin just applies that much more pressure, pulls that much harder. Shivers rock down Levi’s form. Erwin’s mouth stays by his ear.

“I’m not going to have you throw a tantrum just because you don’t know how to deal with your emotions.”

“F...Fuck your mother.”

That earns him a harder knee into his arm, and his fingers are beginning to feel sweetly tingly.

Erwin doesn’t let up, and Levi screws his eyes shut. The heat from before, frothing and hot, is quieting down to something warm, still fierce but almost dormant. When Erwin’s mouth drags down to his neck, Levi rides out the next shudder, and exhales hard, eyes closing.

The grip in his hair softens, and the knee on him lightens. He can practically feel Erwin’s eyes all over him when he’s let go, save for the hold on his jaw. When he opens his eyes, Erwin’s bright ones are boring into his. Levi’s breath comes out stuttered.

Erwin doesn’t even have to say anything as he gets up and grabs Levi’s bag, offering it to him. He waits like that, like he can wait hours.

It’s a task to push back up on shaky limbs. Levi does it with some grace and takes the bag.He’s completely misplaced Petra, who is standing not two yards away, eyes flicking between him and Erwin.

“My bad,” is all Levi can croak her way right now.

He's outside, and then in Erwin's car. 

Once Erwin’s in, he doesn’t say anything as he drives. Levi stares down at the carpet between his feet.

"How do you feel?" Erwin asks, forever later.

"...Fine."

Erwin waits. Levi hates that he can't match the patience.

"Had a shit time." He sounds exhausted.

"Your hands are a mess."

Levi blinks tiredly at his hands. They're red, angry looking, quivering. Maybe later he'll feel the pain.

"Yeah," Levi says.

“You’re supposed to come find me when something like that happens.”

Levi wants to jam his fingers in his eyes as much as he wants to feel Erwin’s teeth on his neck.

“You can injure yourself badly doing something like that.”

Levi blinks, but doesn’t see old faces behind his eyelids anymore. He can only guess Erwin didn't see the exchange in the alleyway, and Levi doesn't have it in him right now to think those eyes and ears Piggy spoke of saw and heard Erwin. 

 _No_ , Levi tells himself, _it was all talk, and you let it get to you._

But like jokes, a talk is never just a talk with Pimp.

Erwin’s hand is suddenly on his thigh. Levi stares at it, feels the heat bleed through his sweats.

Levi exhales hard. 

“You really are an asshole…”

“If it’s any consolation, you got a good kick to my arm.”

Levi glances over and can see the tension in Erwin’s jaw, almost undetectable were he not looking for a sign of pain. Somehow, it makes him feel a little better, and a little shittier at the same time.

“My bad.”

Erwin squeezes hard.

Levi relaxes under it, leans his head back, shuts his eyes.

“Never mind,” Erwin says after several moments.

Levi opens his eyes, realizes that they’ve been driving around aimlessly. He looks back at Erwin. “What?”

“I have a feeling you won’t come to me for a while,” Erwin says, “so that’s fine.”

Levi doesn’t know why he thinks of this now, but decides when they stop, he’ll massage the pain out of Erwin’s arm.

“Why?”

“I’ll come find you instead.”

Levi's reply comes delayed: “Stupid."

“What?"

"That's stupid. How will you know where I am.”

“I’ll figure out a way,” Erwin says.

Levi watches him, his energy reduced to the negatives. He sags back in the seat, almost mourning the loss of the burn from his scalp, the ache in his arm and jaw. 

Levi's fingers bump against those of Erwin's clamped on his leg.

“Yeah, you would say something like that…”

When Erwin’s fingers squeeze him one more time, Levi shuts his eyes and hopes they leave bruises.

 **-x-**  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, okay I admit I really just wanted an excuse to put Levi in Erwin's shirt and have him sit high up in it like a bar stool. I am indulging in what I can through this fic, and hope to keep the old farts getting closer and dealing with issues (everyone's got them). 
> 
> I also admit I might have fun putting Levi through the worst of it as the end of the chapter more than hinted at (gah, sorry).
> 
> Than you for the support nevertheless. It means so much to me. Every kudos and comment gets to me and makes my tired-working-adult self put at least some time into writing the next part. THANK YOU!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi hates parties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an fyi I put dashes ( - ) between a group of texts to make it easier to tell each text apart from the other
> 
> (also thank you so much for all the support omg)

 

Day after day becomes synonymous with Erwin.

They train mostly at Mike’s gym, and take breaks outside because Levi can’t stand being there too long, especially with the owner lurking about. And the breaks they share at some cafe or a Greek restaurant that is Erwin-approved for his diet are somehow not less appreciated than the training itself.

Erwin talks, Levi talks back, and he learns that that Erwin is more than up for playing a game Levi has done in the past that consists of making up the life stories of other customers. Erwin makes up more ridiculous stories (“an alien in a host body, really, Erwin”?) than Levi does.

They talk about each other too, a little. Erwin doesn’t discuss the details of his father's reputation, but neither does Levi talk about Kenny. Neither of them talk about Levi’s outburst a few days ago, and Erwin has yet to say anything about Levi glancing over his shoulder more than he already did.

Then there’s the thing that’s changed.

At first Levi thinks it's a product of his talk with Piggy, like a nasty residue or that feeling that can stick after jerking awake from a deep and disturbingly real. If that were the case though, Erwin’s hand on his arms to guide him into position or the way he laughs should have nothing to do with it. Even with Hange’s presence (and Levi doesn’t exactly hate them yet) and enthusiasm, it can’t be paled.

It’s there in the cafe Levi likes and that Erwin humors him each time he wants to go there, that he has the epiphany.

Erwin isn’t just a stubborn asshole anymore.

The asshole is definitely there, but Erwin’s also considerate of his role as trainer, and Levi almost hates it because it’s like being pampered. Erwin hands him drinks, massages his muscles, explains to him the points of his coming fight that makes it somehow allows it to be more legal than the ones he’s done in ill-lit warehouses.

It’s weird, Levi decides, because one moment of Erwin sharing something about himself shouldn’t have made a different. Maybe it’s the familiarity of seeing him every day this week, or maybe he’s just thinking too fucking much lately and letting the kisses they sneak get to him.

Really, he’s no better than a teenager. He should be sick of Erwin and demand his peace and quiet, and a lot less willing to spend any kind of time with this man who is becoming less the stranger he wanted to punch not two weeks ago. Now they’re kissing daily.

All they’ve done since Wednesday is kiss. It’s now Saturday Levi should think more about dragging Erwin across the booth to have a session against the cushions, and less on the four fake-sugar-crap spoon fulls Erwin pours into his coffee. Levi knows the number by now already.

He wishes it was Sunday and he could be with Isabel. At the same time, he think the feel in his stomach is some kind of unease to see her, as if her prone form on the bed will remind him why it’s for the benefit of others not to tangle with his life. 

Day after day, Levi thinks he’s that much closer to being undone.

“You look deep in thought,” Erwin says.

Levi lifts his eyes from Erwin’s hands and realizes he has been quiet for the better part of their second lunch (Erwin insists he eats a laughable amount more than Levi ever has eaten in his life).

“Maybe.”

“Something bothering you?”

“If it was, you’d probably be slamming up against the wall.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“You sound hopeful about that.”

“Go fuck yourself, Erwin.” Levi stabs a strawberry and munches on it hard.

“You can’t blame me for thinking that.”

Levi swallows before talking. “Liar .”

He snorts and leans his face into his palm. The ache from today’s training is a pleasant feeling, a thin layer compared to the first day when everything throbbed. Erwin promised within a few weeks he’d have the energy to compensate for it all.

“So what were you thinking about?” Erwin asks. He sips his coffee, wrapped up in his nice coat. Levi’s thought about wearing it more than once.

“You.”

“That’s a little vague.”

“I was thinking what a weird thing we’re doing.”

Erwin lowers his cup a fraction from his lips. “Again?”

“Sometimes I think about it anyway.”

Erwin arches a brow and resumes his sip.

Without a hitch in his voice, Levi adds, “I was thinking that I haven’t sucked you off in a few days.”

He smirks at the way Erwin has to cough into his fist to hide his choking. It’s too much, and Levi laughs, and it leaves him with an ache almost as good as when he’s fighting.

“What are you, a virgin?” Levi offers him a napkin.

He knows he’s surprised Erwin because the man reaches with his bad arm and tenses. Lowers it, reaches with his left hand. It’s been proving a nuisance since the last time, and Levi wonders if it’s part of why Erwin has not invited him back to his place though the man claims he has office business to attend to.

“You said that rather loudly is all,” Erwin says, dabbing a spot that caught on his coat. Good.

“You asked what I was thinking.”

Erwin smiles at him. “I should have asked what are your plans tonight.”

Levi studies him a little longer, because yes, Erwin is easy on the eyes, before coming around to settle next to him. Without preamble, he takes Erwin’s arm and rubs it the way he’s starting to think helps Erwin with the acheness.

“You don’t have to--”

“I don’t do shit I don’t want to do. Did you forget?”

Erwin hums something akin to approval, at least Levi thinks so.

“I have a party tonight,” Levi says.

“A party?”

“Yeah, don’t sound so surprised, asshole. You go out less than I do so don’t start.” Levi clamps down on Erwin’s shoulder, wanting to shed the coat off, to feel the muscle under all the scarred tissue.

“You don’t sound thrilled to go.”

“It’s for the brats. I sort of made arrangements to tag along.”

Erwin’s smirking is more noticeable in profile form. Levi tames the urge to lean up and do something about it, if only for the current condition of their public setting.

“Shut up,” Levi says.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking something.”

“I was. I was kind of imagining what you’re like with them in person.”

“Spare me the details. It’s not a big deal.”

“You make it sound like you don’t want it to be one.”

“Because I don’t.”

Erwin’s chuckle is barely audible.

“What?”

“You get riled up easily,” Erwin says.

Levi stews on that, though Erwin seems just fine letting him do just that as he takes another sip. As he does, Levi stretches his leg and drags his ankle up to Erwin’s thigh. A bit uncomfortable to get the right angle, but he’s not flexible for nothing, and the way Erwin chokes again is enough to make him laugh.

Soon after, they return to the private room of the gym, purposely early for their meet-up with Hange, who has made it their life's goal to attend the end of each session and conduct notes and prodding in the name of their research.

With a good fifteen minutes to spare, Levi knows Erwin’s mouth is coming before the man’s even turned to face him.

Erwin gives him the longest kisses of his life (plus a nibble or two for the cafe antics), and they’re always deep even if short-lived. Now, they’re indulgent, and heavy enough that Levi rises up to thread his fingers in Erwin’s hair and encourage those large hands to squeeze up his sides and down his hips.

He wants to ask, he shouldn’t ask.

“Erwin,” he breathes the name between a hotter kiss, then knows he’s lost when Erwin’s mouth revisits the stretch of his neck.

“Can I come by tonight?”

Erwin doesn’t even need further explanation.

“Yes.”

**-x-**

Levi hates parties.

Funny, given how much he preferred them years back. They made for easy scores, what with all the booze that gets passed around and drugs experimented. It was like a field just for his, Isabel’s, and Farlan’s picking. And look where it got them.

Now that Levi retired from that line of occupation, he’s faced with a swarm of young faces, shit music, and more public displays of arousal than he wants to see. It’s like the club all over again, only Erwin isn’t there.

What seriously has become of his life?

Levi doesn’t humor that question and crosses into what might as well be foreign territory. Eren hadn’t been wrong; there’s a lot of older kids here, but they look younger every year so Levi can’t be sure how many of them are legally allowed to be chugging back those ugly red plastic cups.

He vividly remembers Erwin’s smile when he’d got it out of Levi what his plans were tonight. In retrospect, Levi thinks it was an opening to finally get into bed with Erwin (they’d barely kissed since Levi’s outburst), and yet here he is fulfilling a promise he shouldn’t have made to begin with.

He can’t imagine Erwin socializing like these apes.

He really thinks too much about Erwin nowadays.

With a grunt, Levi squeezes between tall bodies. The place is essentially a mansion on a smaller scale, and every room seems occupied by hoards of kids. With all the drinks perched on countless tables, a massive pool in the back, and what definitely looks like fine artwork and sculptures, Levi doesn’t fancy being the fucking idiot of a parent who left their kid alone with this place.

Maybe it’s a good thing he showed up afterall.

He finds Mikasa first out in the back. She’s lingering by one of the tables littered with finger foods, holding a cup she doesn’t look like she’s taken a sip out of.

“Looks like you’re having the time of your life,” Levi says.

Mikasa turns, eyes widening. They relax almost instantly. “You showed up.” She sounds annoyed. Levi can never really tell with her.

“Don’t remind me.” Levi surveys the area, figuring Eren is within Mikasa’s line of vision. True enough, he finds the idiot hopping with a bigger group of idiots. Levi recognizes the blonde friend looking like he was dragged to the party.

“He’s been like that for ten minutes,” Mikasa says.

Levi glances at her and then at those around her. There are a handful of guys sneaking pitiful looks her way, but Levi can’t be certain if they’re already rejected or just too intimidated to approach her.

“Ten minutes. Youth’s wasted on you guys.”

Mikasa looks at him. “You’re not old.”

“You’ll feel it at my age all the same.”

She returns to look at Eren. For a while, she’s quiet, and Levi just stands by her, taking in the assault on three of his five senses.

“Eren was hoping you’d come.”

“I came to make sure your asses got home in one piece.”

“It’s midnight,” Mikasa says.

Levi feels stupid suddenly. Of course midnight equated to the start of a party rather than its finale.

Great.

There’s sealed beer, and it’s been a while, so Levi leans into a cooler to snatch one. It tastes bitter enough and definitely counts toward drinking his calories rather than eating them. Levi takes a longer sip just because he knows Erwin’s diet would not approve.

He feels Mikasa looking at him though.

“What are you staring at?”

“It’s weird. Seeing you drink.”

“Most people drink.”

“Eren thinks you drink hard stuff.”

Levi rolls his eyes and thinks that’s probably what concoction the moron’s got in his cup. Part of him hopes it’s the right mix to knock Eren out of commission tomorrow.

“I’m not a lightweight,” Levi says in answer. He suspects Erwin might be though. “And you’re aware you’re under the drinking age?”

“Everyone knows here.” She seems to understand Levi’s not about to do much about it. Now, anyway. Let the little worms wake up like their head is upside down and see if they think it’s worth it then.

“Yeah,” Levi says. He glances at her again, and the scarf she often wears. He’s noticed it before, but it only seems worth bringing up when you only got a mediocre beer and a bunch of hormones flaring around you as a means of entertainment.

“Did Eren give you that?” he asks.

Mikasa actually pays him a look longer than the usual ones she gives him. Her hand twitches, like she might reach and touch it. It stays by her side. “Yes,” she says.

“Figures.”

Her eyes narrow at that, but Levi shrugs it off. “The hell if I care what kind of relationship you two have.”

“Would you know about that?”

“What?”

“Relationships.”

“You think I’m a loner?”

Mikasa doesn’t look like she really cares either way, and her silence confirms that. Maybe that’s what makes it easy for Levi to add, “I’m not a loner from my personality.”

“Some might say it’s a lack of one.”

Levi smirks. “You’re one to talk.”

Mikasa sips her drink, watching Eren drag Armin deeper into the pit of raging dancers. “Yeah,” she says.

Levi chuckles out his nose, earning him a side glance from her, and what might be the tiniest smiles.

“Eren has a lot of theories. About you,” she says.

“Eren says a lot of shit.”

“...He does. But it’s who he is, thinking things like that.”

“Reckless.”

Mikasa nods.

“Naive. A moron,” Levi adds, smiling wider because Mikasa gives him a nasty look for adding more insults than necessary. “And maybe a little ungrateful.”

At that, she frowns, looking at him expectant.

Levi waves his hand without commitment and takes a sip of his bland beer. “Of you, anyway.”

“He thinks I worry too much.”

Levi blinks over at where Eren’s head bobs up and down from the hoard. “Someone probably should.” He doesn’t spare Mikasa another look, though he can tell she’s watching him. Probably the tone in his voice gave a little more than he should have.

And somehow, though they don’t share another word, Levi feels like Mikasa knows his loss as much as he knows hers. He wouldn’t call it a sixth sense because to recognize the depravity of another human being is a shitty kind of sense to have. Still, whatever the hell it is, he’s familiar with it, and in that moment of sharing company amongst a throng of people, she’s a little familiar with his too.

He takes another gulp of his beer.

Parties suck.

At some point later, into his fourth drink because Levi finds a cooler that has a better selection, and when he’s wondering why he’s really here, Erwin texts him.

 

**Are you raving it up?**

**-**

Levi snorts. Hides a smirk.

**Shouldn’t you be drinking**

**your prune juice and**

**going to bed.**

**-**

**I thought you wanted to come**

**by tonight.**

 -

**I figured it was getting too late.**

**-**

**And you didn’t even text me to**

**ask if it was late for me?**

 -

**Why the fuck would I text you?**

**-**

**You’re doing it now. Also**

**good to know you sound**

**the same in your messages**

**still**

 -

**Fuck you. You texted me first.**

**-**

**Did I? I’m an old man according**

**to you. So my memory must be**

**going.**

- 

Levi doesn’t realize he’s smiling until now. Stupid Erwin. 

He texts back:

**So you must be going to bed.**

**-**

**I can wait.**

**-**

**It might be a while.**

**-**

**I’m patient.**

**-**

There’s a commotion that pulls Levi from fully acknowledging the warmth he feels at reading the last message. What had been a sea of dancers now has parted in half in time to avoid the spew of vomit that flies out of Eren, and into the pool. There’s a cocktail of laughter and cries of alarm, where that Armin kid is definitely in the latter. Mikasa’s at their side in an instant.

Christ.

Levi quickly thumbs a reply.

**Might be sooner than later.**

**-**

**I’ll pour a glass of prune juice**

**for you then.**

**-**

Levi really shouldn’t be feeling happy as he shoulders half of Eren’s weight, with the threat of more vomit on the horizon.

But he kind of is.

**-x-**

 

“And that’s how he ended up throwing up in the pool. With fucking people in it.”

Erwin laughs as his hand drags up and down the length of Levi’s bare thigh. “Were there people fucking in the pool, or just in the pool and you added your preferred poetic description?”

Levi nudges him with his knee. “Both, I’m sure.”

Erwin laughs again, and Levi swallows it in a deep kiss. It’s not been a full two hours since he arrived at Erwin’s home and was prompt about shoving his trainer into a wall. Details of his evening could wait; he had been hungry and Erwin’s body was just the meal he’d been starved for.

Which explains how they ended up naked under Erwin’s sheets, having blown each other and rutted no better than the fucking teenagers back at the party. It didn’t really explain why they hadn’t already rolled away from each other and parted for the night, or why Levi felt just fine half tucked under Erwin’s looming form.

“And he’s okay now?” Erwin asks, because Levi decided to tell him the story after they’d frisked each other. Eren and vomit made one of the worst combinations that would have dampened the mood in more ways than one.

“He’ll be fine. He’s got someone.” Levi doesn’t mention if Mikasa wasn’t around, he would have ended up glued to Eren’s side. Nor did he mention he waited and examined to ensure the idiot hadn’t earned himself a night at the hospital from alcohol poisoning.

“You do take good care of them it seems.”

Levi shrugs one shoulder, dragging his nails along Erwin’s good arm, encouraging the hand attached to explore his body more thoroughly. His eyes burn from their need to shut and let himself sleep, but the view easily eclipses that desire.

“Enough about brats,” Levi says.

“Fine by me.”

“Why haven’t you fucked me?”

The hand on Levi’s hip goes still. It’s heavy as Levi remembers, more so when Erwin applies enough pressure to start to hurt.

“It’s not exactly conducive to your training.”

Levi reaches down and cups Erwin, satisfied when the man jolts at the brazen seizing of his delicate bits. “I think you’re giving your cock way too much credit there.” Not that it’s small by any means, but, really. What are they, first timers?

Erwin can’t quite stop a groan when Levi doesn’t let go, instead pumping him out of his flaccid state.

“Still,” Erwin manages around a groan or grunt, “not when we’re training hard to get you ready for your first fight.”

“I’m not that small, for fuck’s sake.”

“You kind of are.”

Levi bites his ear.

Erwin, even aroused, surprises him in speed; he uses his weight and the fact that the push in momentum has him land on his good arm to spin Levi onto his stomach, pin him down flat with just the pressure of his arm and hand.

Levi growls into the sheet, tests the strength of a naked Erwin and isn’t surprised he can’t break free all that easily.

“You’re really a handful,” Erwin breathes against his neck. The heat of his breath makes Levi want to squirm. He’s better than that though.

“Isn’t that why you stalked me?”

“I didn’t stalk you.”

Levi bucks. Erwin bears down harder until it leaves him moaning.

“Training first,” Erwin says. This time with finality, with the fucking voice of a commander that Levi wishes he can choke out of him sometimes.

“Yes, _dad_.” Levi knows it’s low, petty even, but whatever. Sometimes Erwin deserves a little pettiness.

Nothing comes from the jeer. At least, not right away. Levi listens, vision stripped, and then tries to peer as much as the position allows over his shoulder.

“I told you not to move, Levi.”

“I’ll send you a notarized letter when I care-Ah!” Levi winces at the shock of pain from his wrists grinded together in one of Erwin’s hands. “Fucker.”

“Soon,” Erwin says, and Levi shuts right up.

He waits, wriggling periodically, which earns him a grind to his bones or a pull on his arms that’s as delicious as it hurts. Then, when Erwin knows he’s being difficult for the punishment, Levi hears the smack to his backside before the sting registers.

A gasp leaves him, and he goes rigged because--

“Did you just spank me?”

“You weren’t listening.”

Levi scoffs, but before a litany of insults leaves him, Erwin’s hand is weighted down on the area he just struck. Fingers stroke, then grope, lifting and parting to expose an area that leaves Levi’s entire body feeling hot.

He stays still and holds his breath.

Erwin gently releases him, hand dragging down Levi’s thigh, back up to his low back. It smooths over sore muscles, squeezes some of the more sensitive areas that have Levi blowing out his breath raggidly.

Then, Erwin’s tongue dips into his skin. Levi sighs and shuts his eyes entirely, Erwin’s mouth waking up chills everywhere it travels. It traces the outline of his hip, criss-crosses down the back of his thighs, ghosts the full length of his spine, and then settling on his neck to suck.

Levi shifts, neck offered as the mouth kisses down his collarbone. There’s creak of the bed as Erwin shifts his body weight, the hiss of a drawer opening, the warmth of Erwin looming back over him. Eyes still shut, Levi’s body feels so electric from his other senses that he doesn’t even peek.

The temptation returns when Erwin fondles his ass, spreading it again, and then, Levi’s eyes snap open. He can see his own hand, fingers clinging to the sheet, and he can’t remember when Erwin let his wrists go, and doesn’t care when he feels Erwin’s slick finger rubbing around down there.

Erwin’s breath creeps ups his spine, mouth coming to press a kiss to Levi’s ear. He doesn’t ask a question, but Levi thinks it’s there, so he answers by lifting his hips up ever so slightly.

The first finger sinks in deep, and Levi forgets the world exists beyond the four walls of Erwin’s spacious room.

Levi’s mouth parts, and he knows Erwin must be watching every facet of his body as it squirms around the digit. Erwin’s so fucking patient about it, pushing in and in like he’s got weeks to do this. It buries as deep as it can go, just sitting there, pressing, and Levi already feels a twitch in his pelvis getting the better of him.

But he’s not about to beg, so he steels himself.

Finally, the finger withdraws, and Erwin’s thrusting it languidly in him, punctuating each push in hard enough to make a sound. Levi grunts and finds it harder to breathe without making a lot of noise.

And there’s Erwin’s other hand still on him, scratching, lightly pressing over bruises, raking up his back and stroking through his hair. And Erwin’s mouth presses kisses everywhere, in a pattern Levi can’t understand and finds exhilarating when the next one lands.

Two fingers, and Levi’s breath is all pants.

He’s buried his face into the pillow, but moans keep falling out of him and don’t sound muffled at all. Erwin’s wiggling and pushing his fingers into him in all the ways he can now, stretching and probing until Levi’s lifting his hips higher and meeting the thrusts.

“Levi,” Erwin says, after what feels like eons of silence, and it tickles, so Levi jerks away, but Erwin’s other hand catches him under his chin. Head tilted up, all the sounds pour out of Levi, and when he tries to bite the hand, Erwin pushes his fingers so hard he chokes on a cry.

Erwin kisses his neck and shoulder with a tenderness that conflicts with his hands. Levi curses, or groans, or something, and stops teasing himself: he fumbles down with his cock and strokes himself.

“Levi,” Erwin says again, against his ear, and it’s all deep. Levi shudders again but has no where to go with Erwin’s hand on his jaw.

“Shut...up…”

Erwin sucks right under his ear, at a patch of skin Levi knows is sensitive but he can’t control the way he jerks all the same.

“I want to hear you say it.” The fingers start to slow their pace so that Levi has to try and pick out Erwin’s words.

“Ah…! F...fuck, what…?"

“Your training comes first.”

Levi’s eyes flutter, but whether to open more or close, he’s not sure. He’s feeling dizzy now, and Erwin’s words seem as nonsensical as the urge that he’s going to die if he doesn’t get to come soon.

“The fuck…? Wh…” Levi’ words fall back to a groan. He can feel Erwin watching his profile, and his fingers are beginning to retreat. “Guh, fu-fuck,” Levi draws out the curse like it’s his only prayer. The fingers relax inside him, agonizingly still, “Fuck, I understand! I get it, alright?”

Erwin rewards him by tickling along the bundle of nerves Levi’s been dying for. Then, there’s the withdraw of the one finger, and just as Levi feels his voice about to yell out his protest, there’s the delicious pressure of it hitting that spot again, and he’s coming with a cry that started as Erwin’s name.

Levi sucks in deep breaths. He doesn’t even care that Erwin’s gentle as he brushes hair out of his face so their eyes meet.

“Are you going to win?”

“Fuck yes.”

**-x-**

Levi accepts Erwin's good-bye kiss only because the man's brushed his teeth. They take the space of the doorway, a cab already counting the seconds not far off.

"Sunday mornings are for sleeping in, aren't they?" Erwin asks. He's a little bleary in the eyes and looks damn okay wearing nothing but sweatpants. 

"Your ass didn't have to get up when I did."

"I want to ask why you have the need to leave, but I have the feeling you won't tell me."

Levi hums and angles up on his tiptoes to get another kiss, to carry it with him on his way to the hospital. He thinks he can, given how hot Erwin feels against the chill of the morning. "Yeah," Levi says against his lips, "I'm mysterious like that."

Erwin chuckles, but lets him go.

"Plus, it's my rest day," Levi says. "I can rest however I want to, can't I?"

"I had a couple ideas how you could rest today."

God, Levi hates that part of him almost doesn't want to go.

So, as he hops away and goes for the cab, he shouts back, "But maybe I'll come back later."

Erwin's smile makes the morning seem that much less gloomy. At least until Levi's cabbing it a block from the hospital, then trekking the rest of the way in some attempt to steel himself for the familiarity of Isabel still unresponsive in a bed. By the time he's on her floor, hearing his heels click down the hallway, he easily feels an ocean away from everything else.

But when he enters Isabel's room, there is change. Just not the kind he has been waiting for.

Right next to the plant, is a vase of flowers Levi doesn't remember. They're plump and mixed into an arrangement so big Levi finds it insulting.

Senses prickling, he scans the room before coming closer, inspecting Isabel with intense scrutiny. Hair recently washed and styled the way Levi's asked the nurses to, fresh sheets, same amount of wires going in and out of her as before. He lets out a breath he held.

There's no note, no other sentiment attached to the flowers, and Levi's looked hard as he could for one. There's nothing but the beauty of the flowers, so pigmented and vibrant against the hospital's pastels. Levi knows better than to touch the petals, tempting as they look. Out the window, he searches for anything that will confirm the bad feeling growing in his gut.

Nothing.

Levi gives Isabel's hand a squeeze, waits a breath for something that won't happen, then cuts the visit short. Taking the vase, Levi leaves the hospital and travels to one of many alleys he's known Pimp to have done business in. It's empty, as they tend to be with the threat of the sun, but no less plagued by the memories of what took place last night. There, Levi hurls the glass to the filth of the floor. Its shatter is as loud as a scream.

Levi steps back, clenching his fists, feeling a powerful urge to hunt, to make someone talk until he hears what he wants. But, of all things, he thinks back to Erwin's kiss just this morning, how warm it felt. It helps him to breathe deeply. Start to unclench one fist.

_Not now._

Levi turns away before he can watch anymore petals break off and scatter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again so much for all the support! Sorry for the delay. I forgot to post this last weekend gah. Anyway, I've written a bit of the next chapter because originally it was part of this but it broke away from the feel and got too long sorry (I blame the sex). But look forward to Levi's first fight!
> 
> Thank you again~


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But, just before Levi steps forward, Erwin grabs his wrist. Gives it a squeeze.
> 
> And then, that’s it, and Levi's stepping into the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case it isn't obvious the week/day count used in this chapter is the countdown to Levi's fight.
> 
> (oh my gosh and I can't with all the support. Thank you so much)

 

Levi’s feet take him back to Petra’s gym.

Like the last time, he’s loitering outside, the familiar weight of his bag on his shoulder and the night pressing down on him. The bulk of the day had been divided amongst scrubbing every corner of his apartment and checking in on the kids, and always waiting for the other shoe to drop. But he found no stalkers lurking outside his doors or windows, smelled no rat in hiding to come out and bite him.

It didn't convince him to feel any better about what he'd found in Isabel's room this morning.

Levi rolls his shoulder, taut for hours, and blinks up at Petra's sign. He watched one of the lights flickering near death before he goes in. 

Inside, it’s quiet, as Sunday nights tend to be. There’s only a couple of people in the whole gym, but Levi writes them off fast.

"You got a letter going out," Levi says.

Petra looks at him over the desk she’s manning when it’s just her working the place. She doesn't respond, instead looking past him like she expects someone to follow in after him. It takes Levi longer than he likes to realize that someone she's thinking of is Erwin.

“Sorry,” Levi says, glancing at the punching bag he’d been using last. “About last time.”

Petra tenses, then exhales. “Levi...It’s alright. You didn’t break anything,” she says, with a little laugh that sounds more like her way of sounding relieved. “So...well, I’m glad you’re back.”

Levi feels a little relief himself when she gestures to the gym. He nods and makes his way to the corner he prefers working out at, where pedestrians can’t get a good look through the windows. It's a corner he can have a figment of peace in to work out the tension in both his body and mind.

He wraps his hands, double checks his phone (two messages from Eren that can wait, one from Erwin that Levi almost replies to but doesn’t), and then goes at the bag.

This time, he doesn’t punch faces. He envisions an opponent for a match, practices the techniques Erwin’s showed him. Blows that aren't meant to kill, but like a lot of things, with enough wrath, can get the job done. Levi doesn't land killing blows to the bag. Because he’s going to win, and he’s not going to die in the same vicinity where Pimp does business or where Levi's childhood is still trapped in stains stuck to cracked walls.

At some point, Petra comes over to a bench to watch him. Levi doesn't miss it, but he lets her, until he’s feeling a little achy and knows he should stop lest perform badly at tomorrow’s training. It takes more willpower than he likes to step away and wipe his brow.

Petra’s holding out a drink and towel for him when he comes by and sits beside her.

“You’ve gotten better,” she says.

Levi knows she’s asking a question. He decides to humor her. “...Yeah,” he says after a long gulp. “I have a match.”

“A match?”

Levi shrugs a shoulder. “You know, legit fighting in a cage, win lots of money if you make it to the top. The dream.”

Though he doesn’t look at her, he can hear her smile when she says, “The dream, huh?”

“Someone’s dream, anyway.”

“Is it yours?”

“It’s a job.”

“That man then…”

Levi inhales deeply. “Yeah,” he says. “Him.”

“Hm.” Petra is quiet for a moment before she stretches out her legs. “I guess this place can’t offer what you need for that kind of thing.” She sounds only a little disappointed.

“I like it here,” Levi says. He glances over at her, and she’s smiling fully at him.

“That makes me happy,” she says, then exhales gently. She’s broken eye contact already, and Levi won’t continue being the type to answer the unspoken questions she doesn’t ask. “And you?"

“Me?”

“Are you happy?”

It’s the first time anyone’s asked Levi that. It’s a loaded question, and the longer Levi lets the silence answer for him, the less he thinks he has any semblance of an answer to that. Instead, it’s Erwin he’s seeing and remembering on his skin, of all things. Weird.

Petra’s small laugh pulls Levi from his derailed train of thinking.

“Just kidding,” she says, smiling bigger than Levi’s seen. Somehow, it looks a little sad. “What kind of question would that be to ask?”

Levi smirks at her, then gets up. “I bet your old man asks you that a lot.”

“Maybe.” Levi can feel her eyes on his back as he preps to go another round, and then on and off for the remaining hour he stays at her gym, up until he starts to feel his fingers getting tingles.

He tries not to think about how just weeks earlier he would have pounded through the numbness, welcomed it even.

Before he’s completely out the door, Petra calls to him. She waits until he meets her eyes before nodding his way. “I wanted to wish you good luck with your match.” Then, that smile again. “But you don’t believe in luck I think.”

Levi shares her amusement and waves his departure before he’s gone.

Petra’s right though. Fuck luck.

**-x-  seven weeks and five days  -x-**

“You’ve been at it for over a couple of hours now,” Erwin says.

Though there’s an urge to chuck the filthy rag Levi’s using at the man’s face, he doesn’t stop wiping down the bookshelf’s top. He does, however, use his free hand to flip Erwin off over his shoulder. The contents of the case are currently laid, neatly, on the coffee table in front of Erwin, who has decided to revisit one of his books and be cheeky all the while.

Levi doesn’t so much as grunt as he lowers down the step ladder to start on the shelf.

“I thought you already dusted that area,” Erwin says.

“That was the corners of the room and walls I was cleaning.”

“You dusted my walls?”

Levi yanks down the handkerchief so Erwin can see his scowl. “You had cobwebs. You can’t clean anything in this nasty home until you get everything hanging off the walls and ceiling first. Moron.”

Erwin hums, flipping a page in his book, acting as though he hadn’t been scolded by Levi for doing a shitty job at assisting in cleaning. Levi had only humored him, but he had looked for the first excuse to get Erwin off cleaning duty. It hadn’t been a long wait.

“Ah, I see,” Erwin says, still not looking at him, “that’s why it’s taking you longer. Reaching the ceiling for you isn’t an easy task.”

“I ought to punch you in the fucking mouth.” Levi tugs the cloth back in place and mounts the stepper. Somehow he’s not even the slightest mad at Erwin’s snarky comment, less so when he hears the man chuckle.

“If you can reach my mouth.”

Levi can’t help his smirk when Erwin catches the rag thrown at his face. It’s tossed back, and Levi catches it with one hand and decides he’s due for a replacement anyway. He treads to a closet Erwin’s informed him to store the bulk of his cleaning supplies (only now well stocked thanks to Levi), but pauses at spotting a flower arrangement.

“What are these?” Levi asks, stepping closer. The fact that he didn’t notice them when he came by today bothers him, even if it was because his mouth had been occupied. Again, with Erwin's mouth. And his neck, and other things.

“Hm? Oh, you got angry with me I had those fake plants.”

“I wasn’t _angry_.” But really, fake plants are tacky as shit. 

“I got live ones. The woman said they should last a while without much care.”

It shouldn’t matter that Erwin cares what Levi thinks about some dumb flowers. Taking in the array, Levi can’t deny they’re lovely. He recognizes a flower among the arrangement he’d seen in Isabel’s from days before. Levi inhales deeply, and exhales the worst of his remembered anger.

“You don’t like them?” Erwin asks.

Levi adjusts the vase more to the center of the small table, lets his finger smooth over silky petals. He drops his hand and goes to the closet.

“They look good."

**-x-seven weeks and one day-x-**

 

“Did he end up regretting it?” Erwin asks.

Levi's busy making this punching bag his bitch for the last hour and a half, all thanks to Erwin (it’s not a compliment). He knows better than to stop throwing jabs and kicks as he huffs back, “Who regretted what?”

“That brat of yours. You never mentioned if he regretted going to the party. Throw up and all.”

“Huh? Are you seriously asking me this now?”

“Ah, my apologies. I forgot you get so easily winded learning a new technique.”

“Motherfucker--”

Erwin laughs.

It’s a sound that actually does take a bit off Levi’s ire.

Just a little.

**-x- six weeks and two days-x-**

 

Levi peeking out of windows is only outmatched by how many times a day he looks over his shoulder, or maybe by how often he fingers his pocket knife. Right now, as he peers out his curtains again, that number may me out for debate. Outside, like all other times, Levi finds no ghosts to haunt him among the fiends and scourges that come out when the sky is darkest and inhibitions lowered.

“Mm, you’re still up?”

Levi looks over at Eren’s form slightly swaying in the doorway, eyes bleary.

“I sleep late,” Levi says.

Eren blinks slowly, then rubs his eyes. “Oh...sorry, if you want to take your bed back--”

“No,” Levi says, stepping away from the window. “I sleep better on the couch anyway. Go back to sleep. You probably woke Mikasa up.”

Eren mumbles something, and it’s the one time Levi’s grateful for teenage-ness because a few more words is all it takes for sleep to lure Eren back into bed. Like the night before, he’ll sleep like the dead because, in truth, there’s no helping the murder of the woman a few doors down.

Everyone on this floor and the one below knows her ex-husband did her in. Levi couldn’t remember a day passing when he didn't hear the bastard's voice booming that promise through the walls, until she finally found what it took in her to throw his ass out. Funny at the time of his very public eviction from her place, Levi thought the woman would finally find some peace.

There’s some awful joke about that in there somewhere.

So, Levi keeps the kids at his place, at least until the cops ebb, and they will, as they always do, like they expect to catch something coming around her. If nothing else, it's some kind of reassurance that her death is a coincidence against the backdrop of Levi’s personal paranoia.

Levi glances over at his phone, wondering (stupidly) what Erwin is up to at this hour, if he’s bent over his laptop, recovering from Hange’s meeting today, or maybe asleep, not bothered with murders of neighbors on an almost regular basis. Not even a full city away, Erwin’s got no clue of the woman’s death, or that she's got a kid who now has to sleep in a different bed in the home of strangers who might look nicer but be more of a monster than his dad had been.

Erwin probably doesn’t even wonder what Levi's up to at this hour.

Levi turns away from his phone and peeks out the window again.

**-x- five weeks and three days -x-**

“Why are you looking at it like that?”

“It looks something a rat shitted out, ate, and then shitted out again.”

“That’s really specific, Levi.”

“I’ve _seen_ a rat eat something it shitted out.”

“But did it shit it out again?”

“Fucking smartass.”

“I never knew you’d be a picky eater.”

“Only when it looks like you cooked shit for me.”

“You don’t have to keep calling it ‘shit’.”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shitty-shit-a-shit.”

“Are you done?”

“...”

“I can wait all day, Levi.”

“...Hm.”

“See, I told you it was good.”

“It’s better than shit, I guess."

“I’ll show you how to make it next time when you’re not on the verge of falling asleep.”

“I am _not_ sleepy.”

“Do you want to stay the night?”

“...I can take a cab.”

“I can make you breakfast.”

“Are you going to make me another smoothie bullshit?”

“No. Omelette and potatoes.”

“...Fine.”

**-x- five weeks -x-**

“You’re not breathing, Levi.”

Levi is, but it’s strained and blowing out fast. There are a few words crashing to the forefront of his mind to call Erwin, but all of them get lost on the way to his tongue. All that falls out are the groans or hiss pushed out by Erwin’s hard grip, sounds sharpened by his own directionless frustration.

“Breathe.”

Levi screws his eyes shut, hearing his heartbeat echo off the mat he’s pinned onto. Shit dreams had soured his mood, made him see faces rushing by him amidst the throng of rush hour, of those that should have stayed in his nightmares. Then there was what he swears to be corpse of the murdered woman from his floor clawing at his door, her nails tearing down to the nub but still she kept scratching and crying things to Levi he couldn't remember when he'd startled awake. He found no crooked, broken nails embedded in his door when he'd left.

Then Erwin fueled his temper, acting the boulder holding steady against Levi’s mouthing off and dirty looks because, really, fuck Erwin and acting like nothing Levi does will phase him. But Levi knew even the biggest cliff gets chipped at by the ocean, and so he went for the cheap move at Erwin’s bad arm.

And now, the breathing.

“ _Levi_.”

Levi’s eyes snap open. He shivers at Erwin’s mouth against his ear and the way he almost promises to break his wrist. He feels Erwin’s free hand come to his chest, pressing right where his heart’s been thudding.

It starts to calm.

Levi exhales and relaxes in Erwin’s grip.

The lips move from his ear to his neck. Levi doesn’t even try to stop himself from leaning into it.

“That’s twice in one week.”

“Bad dreams,” Levi offers, not really sure why he gives Erwin anything. It's not like the bad dreams come at him when he stays the night at Erwin’s place. That's another bad joke.

Erwin’s thumb rubs against his wrist, hold going lax. With little convincing, Levi thinks Erwin can wait hours if that’s what it took for him to gather his wits.

Since Levi isn’t that kind of man, he pieces himself back together and tells Erwin to come at him again.

**-x- four weeks and two days -x-**

Levi’s spending more nights than not at Erwin’s. More often than not, it’s not always in a tangled mess with Erwin’s mouth on him or his fingers buried deep inside either.

This time is the first he wakes up with Erwin still in the bed with him though.

“Good morning,” Erwin says, then yawns into the back of his hand. Fucking polite even at this hour.

Levi blinks at him. Nope. Erwin still looks good, even through the haze of his waking-up. Though his hair isn’t as perfect. Without lifting his head, Levi flicks a few strands of unkempt hair.

“You’re in bed.” Levi’s got a shirt and sweats on, but Erwin’s shirtless.

“Oh.” Erwin blinks at him, not saying anything about the way Levi seems amused by his hair.

“No work keeping you up until you pass out on the couch?”

“I’m sure I did have some.” Erwin starts to push up onto his elbow.

Levi yanks him back down. He shuts his eyes before he can see Erwin’s surprised reaction, as much as he might want to see it.

“Levi?”

“If you get up, the bed’s going to get cold fast. Science, idiot.”

Erwin makes a little sound like a chuckle, but he doesn’t move away, not even when Levi scoots a tad closer to catch off some of his body heat.

**-x- three weeks and five days -x-**

“Did you really tell Mike you couldn’t hear anything he says because 'of that thing he calls a nose' gets in the way?”

“That hardly sounds like something I’d say, Erwin.”

“You don’t even try to sound like you’re pretending to lie.”

“You can tell Mike I owe him a punch still.”

“It made him laugh.”

“Huh?”

“When Mike told me that story, he laughed.”

“I’m sure it was a terrible sound.”

“I think you’re just upset he was right about the pointers he gave you about your knee strikes.”

“Erwin?”

“Hm?”

“Shut the fuck up and help me stretch.”

**-x- three weeks and one day-x-**

“You sure are working a lot at your new job, huh?”

Levi stifles a yawn as he takes the vegetables Eren’s diced and pours it into the pot, not wanting to bother with an answer to that. He should have known better than staying late at Erwin’s the night before he visits the hospital. He’d almost dropped the pie he’d picked up on his way home, more for the kids than himself. It's some pumpkin crap both Eren and Mikasa favor, and apparently the season for all things pumpkin has kicked off.

Eren hands Mikasa what he’d used to be washed and dried. He’s pointedly not looking at Levi as he adds, “You get more messages on your phone. I hear it go off a lot.”

Also Erwin’s fault.

“Maybe I’m popular with clients,” Levi says.

Eren falls so silent that Levi glances at him and sees the grayness that’s become his face.

“He’s not a prostitute, Eren.”

“Jesus,” Levi says. “You really thought I was turning tricks.”

Eren turns away, head looking heavier than it should be.

“What?” Levi asks.

“N...Nothing.”

“Fine. Don’t talk then.”

Mikasa glances their way, but remains silent in her duties.

The vegetables are barely sizzling when Eren blurts out, “I just think about what that guy said sometimes. The one with the flat nose you-”

“I told you to forget it.”

“I can’t. I want to know.”

“Know what?”

“Are you...in trouble?”

“Look where we live, kid." Levi jerks his hand to the east, where doors down, the sleaze of the landlord has already rented the the apartment out to another family. "We’re always in trouble.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Yeah, just like you know I’ll roundhouse kick you if you don’t shut up.”

Eren does shut up. Sort of; after they’re done eating dinner together and Levi’s sat through listening to all their teenage drama, and there's a lot of it that makes Levi kind of glad he never went to school, Eren lingers at the doorway before he brings it up again.

“Just...I want to say," he sucks in a lot of air, "If you are ever in trouble...you know, we...could help.”

“That’s very reassuring from a kid who spent a Saturday night puking into a literal pool of shame.”

Eren flushes. “Sorry...about that. Again. I mean,” he hesitates, “sorry.”

Levi watches the way he fidgets, the way Eren looks like he’s glaring at something that’s not his shoes. With a sigh, Levi crosses his arms. “Eren.”

Eren reluctantly lifts his eyes. From behind, Mikasa looks his way as well.

“You do whatever the hell you want, but your shit and issues are your own. Figure it out."

Eren’s eyes widen, and for once, when his mouth open, nothing comes out.

Levi waits.

“...And if I don’t know how?” Eren asks, almost a whisper.

Levi scans his expression for a moment.  Stepping back into his kitchen, he says, “Then welcome to the club."

Eren stays put, and stares at the box when Levi walks by From behind him, Mikasa steps closer. “What’s that?” she asks.

Levi glowers at them and lowers the box onto the table. "Will you close the damn door?"

When both of them just blink and stare impassively at him, respectively, Levi straightens, jabbing in their direction with a knife. "Are you going to sit down for dessert for fuck's sake or not? I have places to be."

They share a look that Levi can't read, then the door's closing behind them and hovering over the pie as slice sizes are debated. Then, because Levi knows they'll be cautious, he allows them to settle on his couch and put on some kind of Halloween-themed movie. 

As Levi watches them from the corner of his eye, catching Mikasa smiling when she lets Eren eat the best part of her crust, he figures Erwin can wait another half hour.

**-x- two weeks and two days -x-**

“Your form was spectacular today, Levi! You've really picked up on the new moves. I think you’re really ready for the fight.”

“I don’t like you saying that while you’re prodding me. Are you done, four eyes?”

“Just about. These bruises are new.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. You can tell Erwin no hanky panky until after the fight.”

“The hell did you just say?”

“Tip top shape. Your publicity photo is next week too, isn’t it?”

“Don’t remind me. Hey, hold up.”

“Yes, Levi?”

“Erwin told me you were in the military with him.”

“I was.”

“Was he as annoying as he is now?”

“Oh, is that what you call it?”

“Yeah, annoying.”

“That’s a funny way to describe someone that makes you smile so much, Levi.”

“Shut up. I don’t smile that much. I should have known better than to ask a four eyes like you.”

“Erwin smiles a lot too. More than I ever remember.”

“...Well, whatever. He’s just happy he’s going to look good when I win.”

“If that helps you sleep at night, Levi.”

“Are you being a smartass?”

“I am whatever my pursuits demand me to be.”

“God, Erwin has a weird batch of friends. Are we done? You can go now.”

“Yes, we’re done. Ah, and before I go…”

“What now?”

“I wouldn’t say you’re any kinds of normal either, Levi.”

**-x- one week and three weeks -x-**

Levi feels stupid.

The photographer’s been hovering over him like a vulture, making him see spots every few seconds. Levi’s sure he’s going to go blind, or at least keel over at how humiliating this feels. He’s shirtless, positioned on a backdrop of some kind of white shade he’s sure must be popular in insane asylums, and dolled up in his fighting gear from the wrists down, not even with a prop to punch at.

"Turn your face to the right a little more. There, perfect. Up a little, with a little sneer."

How models put up with this kind of bullshit is beyond him.

“Okay," the photographer says, "how about you give me a nasty kind of look instead? Like you just found out I slept with your mother and didn’t call her back.”

Levi stares over the photographer’s shoulder, finding Erwin lifting his hand to definitely hide a smile. Bastard.

“Do you always say stupid shit when you’re doing this?” Levi asks, not reenacting the scene of his mother, who he’s sure is dead anyway, so far be it from him to be upset over who doesn't call her back.

The photographer keeps clicking away. “Anything to draw out the winning photo. Why?”

Levi’s not sure if that’s an ideal job or just ridiculously stupid. Maybe both.

“At least you don’t have to smile,” Erwin calls from where he’s all fine and dandy, not pressed down by expensive lighting or overwhelmed by the photographer's pursuit for the perfect shot through a medium Levi's never really understood to begin with.

“Nope, we just want that badass look,” the photographer says.

Stupid. Definitely stupid, Levi decides.

He doesn’t do any glaring and doesn’t let anyone pose him like a doll. His aggravation over the whole ordeal seems to be just what the photographer ends up liking funny enough (only not funny at all), but Levi doesn’t crowd with the others (why are there so many people just to take pictures anyway?) to decide on the ‘winning photo’. 

He lounges in a chair instead the instant he's given the signal, hydrating himself and ready to glower Erwin’s way when the man finally comes to join him.

“They’re finishing up,” Erwin says, done up in his nicer suit today.

“I thought the camera did all the damn work already.”

“You can see a lot goes behind photo shoots.”

Levi checks his phone. “Fuck, it’s been two hours. Are you kidding me?”

“A small price to pay for your first fight.”

Levi flexes his hands in his nice wrapping. Seems a waste to not be pounding on something right now, especially with all the lessons Erwin seemed to enjoy drilling into him. “How often do I have to do this crap?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Erwin says, fishing out his phone and tapping away. “We have other things to be thinking about.”

“Like the fight maybe? I might have forgotten about it, what with all the obscene things that guy said about my mother. I may be traumatized.”

Erwin glances at him, smirking. “I was more thinking along the lines of dinner but if you want to discuss trauma...”

Levi studies his hand above his head, then lowers it with a yawn. He's more tired from this shoot than any of the days of Erwin's training regime put together. More than the melted feeling he gets when Erwin's mouth ravishes and he's got three fingers pushed in as deep as they can go. Not that that's happened recently, training first, after all.

"What I want, " Levi stretches and yawns again, "is a calzone.”

“Really now. Those are big, aren't they?”

“I think I’ve earned it,” Levi says, jerking his middle finger toward the assembly that’s still looking over his photos. He tries not to think of something else equally big he's earned. Later.

Erwin chuckles, and when he makes to stand, his knuckles graze along the small stretch of exposed thigh on Levi. It gives the right kind of chill that has Levi straighten and look up at Erwin and thinks how good he’d look with Levi’s hands under that expensive fabric.

“A calzone it is,” Erwin says.

Levi lets his eyes drag over Erwin’s form. “Handmade. With a lot of pepperoni.”

“You’re really going to punish me for making you do this.”

“You’ve no idea, Erwin.”

**-x- the Sunday before-x-**

Levi watches Isabel’s hand more than her face. The doctors once told him the motor senses in her hands would likely kick in before her eyes would open. They had been disinclined to share the information, as if it was too much hope to drop in Levi's hands, and only now Levi understands how toxic hope can be.

In truth though, Levi watches her hand for a different reason: her face. He can’t stand how placid she looks now, how bare she is when her face once was a canvas that somehow contained the full spectrum of her spirit. 

He’s started talking to her about Erwin, more and more, and what his training entails, and even a little about Hange because they're not terrible company most days. Levi thinks Isabel would appreciate how legal fighting is really just a list of ‘what not to do’ and that he can’t even fight against men outside his weight range.

He doesn’t tell her how often he thinks of Erwin kissing him.

Levi gives her hand a squeeze when the time comes, again, for him to walk away from the hospital alone. Nothing. His stomach hurts at the familiarity of nothing.

“I’ll win,” he tells her.

He slips his fingers out of a grip that doesn’t hold them.

**-x- the night before -x-**

Levi listens to his opponent on the television, picking out the faint tilt of an accent. The guy’s younger than Levi by several years, and easily makes up for it in discipline. The interview’s been going on for a good twenty minutes, which is eighteen more minutes than Levi fathomed one of these things could go on. He's already watched the guy fight on loop weeks before, but Levi's never heard him speak until now.

“He’s won fights before, as you've seen, and has had a couple years’ worth training,” Erwin says. He comes around the couch with two mugs, one of which Levi accepts before lifting his legs and allowing Erwin to sit.

Levi settles his legs back down, draped over Erwin’s thighs, but his attention doesn’t stray from the T.V.

“He won’t be easy,” Erwin adds. One hand comes down to squeeze Levi’s ankle.

“Can’t have things be boring,” Levi says, mirthless. He’s more occupied by the way his opponent holds himself. “They said he was just picked up abroad. I didn’t know that kind of thing happened in these kinds of fights.”

“As opposed to illegal ones?”

Levi props up enough to shrug and take a sip of his tea. “International fighting is a fucked up thing from what I hear.”

“You’re not the only one who gets picked up for these fights.”

Levi scoffs. “So why am I not doing interviews? Not that I am asking for it, trust me.”

“Interviews, hm?” Erwin sounds like he’s smiling. “I did that on purpose. Better to focus your efforts on preparing for your first fight given how little time we had.”

Levi breaks away from the interview to study Erwin, the way he still looks good when awashed with the ugly glow of the television and not much else. “Liar,” he says. “I bet this is some marketing tool you have.”

Erwin palms his leg up to his knee. “Fair enough. Imagine it when you win, a man no one knows much about…”

Levi sneers at him. “You plan to feed me to the media after the fight.”

“I wouldn’t feed you to anyone, Levi.”

But Erwin sounds convinced with his plan, and far be it from Levi to know the workings of marketing a product, human as it is. If nothing else, Erwin’s not an idiot, and Levi strays away from anything post-fight. There’s a tinge of unease thinking his face will be plastered all over these channels tomorrow.

“Levi,” Erwin says, squeezing again. “Don’t think about anything else. You have one goal tomorrow.”

Levi takes another slow sip, then pumps up the volume.

The interviewer finally asks if he’ll win against this new fighter in the mix. It’s the first time Levi’s heard himself referenced in anything so far.

The man doesn’t so much blink as he says, “Of course I’ll win.”

Levi smirks around his drink.

“What is it?” Erwin asks.

“Nothing really,” Levi says, lowering his mug and looking at Erwin. “Just that he makes a pretty good liar.”

**-x-**

Lights.

It’s Levi’s first visual impression. Before that, the noise. Like a storm in the distance, thunder muffled, until suddenly he was willingly stepping into the eye of it, all noise and lights bearing down on him like they wants to expose everything, leave him flayed open for all the spectators, who paid to be here, to do what they will with it.

Days had bled into weeks, and Levi himself bled so much less than he had in years throughout his training with Erwin. There had been little time for anything else as the fight loomed closer, and all of it rained down on him as he lingered in the entryway that will spill him onto a path straight under massive screens that broadcast fights in HD, straight from the cage.

He's heard some people refer to to it as an arena, maybe even a stage if they were pretentious enough. Levi knows a cage when he sees one, and he's all too aware that he's never had to enter a cage back when he became more animal than man, broke that kid's hands.

In other circumstances, this might be a funny situation.

Erwin stands beside him, and like in the room Levi changed in, hasn’t said anything. Everything that can be said, has, and all else would be for decor at best, and platitudes at worst.

But, just before Levi steps forward, Erwin grabs his wrist. Gives it a squeeze.

And then, that’s it, and Levi's stepping into the light.

Everything so unlike the waste of the warehouses and alleys Levi’s picked up his dirty bills from. He’s minimally dressed, but it’s with clothing more pricey than anything he owns, and his hands are warm from Erwin’s touch from wrapping them. It’s the only contact they’ve had since last night.

And all around, people are bubbling with enthusiasm, some probably even jeering, but there’s no ounce of menace sharpening the sounds.

Somehow, it’s eerie.

Levi tunes them out to white noise like a switch. His opponent is in the cage, watching him. Up close, the guy is thicker in the arms than the T.V. makes him look, and there are scars crossing along his body. From these fights, training, or worse, Levi can’t tell.

The man takes him in at his own leisure, and only then does Levi think on how it’s the first time he’s presented himself as a fighter, and not a man climbing over bodies he's broken to reach a payday. And he's a fighter not just to this other man he can't beat to a dead pulp, but to the audience as well, and to all other fighters watching, even those that might face off against Levi one day.

But it's all moot until this fight is over.

Levi inhales slow and deep. He glances back through the cage and finds Erwin staring right at him. Erwin nods once, and that’s all it takes for Levi to break their contact and zero his entire world down on the man on the other end of the cage.

Levi locks on his gaze, and won’t let go until one of them has fallen.

Announcements are made, people make more noise. Levi hears it all as if underwater, muscles poised, no longer remembering Erwin’s training but living it, until there’s the ping Erwin told him to listen for-

He’s launches forward.

_They almost always start slow..._

There’s an iota of his opponent’s eyes widening, and reflexes block Levi’s blow. But Levi already hears Erwin’s words in his mind, _he’s a fast blocker_ , and already has ducked and swept his opponent's legs out from under him.

_Circling each other, getting the feel..._

Levi hops away as his opponent’s legs react, grazing his calf, and there’s the wild urge to go for the man’s eyes in retaliation.

_We won’t give him the chance for that._

His fists his hands, and grits his teeth.

Fast as Erwin promised, the other man’s back on his feet and coming at him. Levi jerks away from each blow, parries, catches himself before he lands an illegal move. Hesitates.

Shit.

The world rings and his vision blackens. His body thuds to the matted floor. Levi rolls on instinct though it worsens the sudden bout of nausea.

 _Don’t ever stop moving._  

Levi forces himself up to his feet, itches for a knife just because the little shit’s got it coming now. Through his rapid blinking, Levi clearly makes out the slant of a smile on the other man. Fast reflexes. Strength. Discipline. Experience. Time. Things this fighter knows Levi lacks by comparison. 

Levi curls his left fingers into a fist, hard.

“Levi.”

Erwin’s voice reaches through the ringing and storm of the audience. Levi doesn’t dare look away from his opponent, but he recognizes the tone. He wills his hand to relax, then fists it again with a shift in purpose. 

Levi cracks his neck and lets his opponent circle him now. He matches the pace, ignoring the feel of Erwin's gaze on him and the way the world's foundation feels unsteady. One testament to his opponent's prowess. Levi presses the back of his hand to his lip, feels it split bad. Blood stains his fist. The pain in his head is spreading to his neck.

_If you don't win this fight fast, you won't win at all._

Levi breathes in deep.

Then, lowers his hands from protecting his head.

The other fighter narrows his eyes.

"Levi." Erwin's warning is ignored.

Levi makes himself wait, arms lowered all the while. But waiting won't change the truth; he can feel it in the air, stultified by rules and regulations, how unnatural all this is. There's even a ref dance around them to enforce the guidelines and act like there really are rules for how to beat a man down to the ground.

The longer Levi stares down the other man, the more he's sure he's not the only one willing to pull dirty moves had this fight been bred out in the streets, unrestricted by literal cages. After all, humans are only as strong as they are week.

Levi’s really no exception.

But he's not about to lose.

This time, his opponent comes at him first.

Levi risks a move, takes a blow hard to his collarbone to do it, uses the momentum of the fall to snag the man’s arm, hoist up and throw his legs around, snaking them over his opponent’s upper body just the way he’s done it on Erwin before.

Gravity does the rest of the work.

They both crash hard.

_You shine on instinct, but you lack tact, Levi._

Levi curses at the spots he's still seeing, but manages to tangle his arms around the man’s neck when he would rather punch him right in the temple. And he could, at the expense of loosening his hold and allowing the asshole to squirm free. So Levi channels the urge into strength for his arms, yanking up until he’s satisfied at the strained sound the man makes.

There’s trashing but Levi’s legs have not let go, and he takes the hard, wild punches to his ribs and then one to the head that ticks him off enough: Levi throws the blow back, but it's all the leverage needed and his opponent springs free, grappling to his feet, coughing.

Levi can't even hear Erwin anymore as he hounds after his prey, sees the man try to brace himself, breathless and dazed, but Levi doesn't stop even when his vision lists to one side, channeling everything to his heel as he whips it around, and down. Hard.

His opponent goes down in one, graceless fall.

He stays down.

A swell of silence. Then, the ref calls it.

K.O.

The crowd loses its shit. 

Above Levi, the screens declare his win, right next to the photo that required two hours to get right. It's the first time Levi's seen it.

Levi blinks out of the haze of his fight, the sounds of cheers and what might be outrage reaching him, but it's all white noise again when Erwin’s suddenly in the ring with others that look like officials. Levi forgets all of them, tilting his head up as Erwin approaches, wearing an expression Levi is a little too woozy to make sense of.

And he doesn't want to, not when there's only one thing that matters in this moment.

Breathless, Levi staggers closer but keeps himself upright. He has to force his voice loud over the cacophony, but he makes sure Erwin hears him when he rasps out:

“Told you I’d fucking win.”

**-x-**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to have some fun with dialogue and short scenes building up to Levi's fight, so I hope it wasn't too jarring. I didn't want to just skip all those weeks when the buildup so far hasn't warranted it. 
> 
> The fight's meant to be different than the previous one I've written, so I hope Levi's unease about it came across in the style? Anyway, of course Levi won, but sloppily and I hope to indulge in Erwin's 'scolding'~
> 
> And always, thank you so much for reading and motivating me. It's the best feeling EVER.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know I fucked up,” Levi says, hating how much of a shudder it comes out as.
> 
> ~
> 
> A huge, Erwin-bara-hug and thank you to Birbwin, who has so graciously offered to be the beta reader for the remaining chapters of this fic ;o; Thanks to her, this chapter came out far better than the original draft! AND THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT Y'ALL!

Once, when Levi was six-ish, he found a rabid dog.

It was big, as most things are to a kid, and staggering in the alley behind the crackhouse-slash-whorehouse Levi use to live in, its hair mangled, canines bared. It made a sound that stayed with him in nightmares for weeks after.

By comparison, Erwin looks nothing like that. Since the end of the fight, he’s stayed the picture of total composure, even when there’s this whole thing about reviewing the fight in some slow-motion shit. It’s close, but the ref’s call on the fight stands. Barely.

Like a lot of times in Levi’s life, it’s by the skin of his teeth.

But it’s Erwin’s eyes that bring back the still vivid imagery of the dog in the alley. It’s only for an instant that he sees the unsteadiness in Erwin’s gaze, however short-lived it was. By that time Levi was less dizzy, though still very much bleeding.

Hange is there, all ecstasy and gauze at the ready, and Levi’s given things to drink and nibble on to recover. He doesn’t see Erwin anymore during that time, or anyone else, but knows enough to know that the man’s keeping his plan on a tight leash and keeping anyone with a microphone out of Levi’s reach.

Levi doesn’t think about the people beyond the room Hange treats him in, and doesn’t think much more on the lights that blind his way out of the building when Erwin finally gestures for them to leave.

There’s something sickening about attention from strangers that aren’t straight off the cold streets, that have middle-income at the least, families even, and are either pissed or some kind of impressed that this tiny nobody beat a man down.

But Levi feels Erwin’s hand hard on his arm, guiding him easily out and to a black car that had dropped them off, and Levi doesn’t even think to ask if they’re supposed to be staying to answer questions or whatever else goes on after a man gets knocked out in the ring.

The door closes and the noise vacuums out to a low muffle. The car rolls away, and Levi notices the window separating them from the driver is rolled up.

It’s a while before Erwin speaks; Levi’s been leaning his forehead against the cold window, watching the city pass by in a rush of colors.

“The committee is going to penalize you.”

Levi exhales. “For what?”

“You struck downward with the end of your elbow,” Erwin says. His voice sounds tight.

Levi just shrugs. After all, he still won, so the penalty is moot as far as he cares. And that was very little to start with.

He looks down at his hand, feeling the flesh he hit. He hopes his opponent stays knocked out for a good while. His head’s still got a throb on one side. There’s an urge to clench his fists, but he stops himself. The fatigue helps with that.

“You were reckless.”

“I won,” Levi says, jerking his head toward Erwin.

Erwin holds his stare, and it’s as strong as the each time he’s successfully pinned Levi down on a mat. For a moment, Levi thinks he’s going to go on, detail the fuck-ups that Levi already knows he did. It never comes.

Instead, Erwin’s gaze shifts as it rakes over his form, then looks ahead. Levi narrows his eyes at him, then snorts and looks away, tucking his head back against the window.

“Don’t doze off,” Erwin says.

Levi’s too tired to flip him off.

It’s the longest drive back to Erwin’s place, made heavy with the energy between them. Good, Levi thinks. He hopes each passing second that Erwin’s getting angrier as much as Levi is getting sleepier.

By the time they are stepping out of the car and into Erwin’s place, Levi doesn’t feel the fight slip off him like a coat. It’s fresh on his body, in his blood, enough that he can’t envision Erwin’s house as an oasis. Less so as he watches the man settle things down with precision.

Levi snorts and shrugs out of his jacket. When he steps deeper into the house, he expects Erwin to be facing him. Instead, he finds the man going into the kitchen, and the familiar sounds of him making a shake, for Levi, of course.

With sore limbs, Levi climbs into the stool and watches Erwin.

Nothing.

Even after Erwin hands him the drink, he doesn’t say anything, as if he’s not mad, the hint of it gone from his eyes. It makes Levi’s skin tick, as if something’s growing under, spreading like disease. He can’t discern if this is some kind of ploy, and doesn’t care; Erwin turns away from him to put the blender in the sink.

He smacks his hand on the cold marble. It warrants Erwin’s attention, at least.

Levi glares right up at him. “Out with it,” he says.

Erwin looks back at him.

“Don’t even with that passive bullshit,” Levi adds, quick and hard. “You may be the type to do your little conniving and plotting in your head and it’ll come out later in some,” his vocabulary is not on par at the moment, so he gestures vaguely, “ _way_ , but I’m not for that.”

“Plotting,” Erwin says, not amused.

“Yes, _plotting_ ,” Levi says, gripping the smooth countertop. “Your fucking demeanor pisses me off. Just say you’re angry, _do_ something. I know you are. You looked like you wanted to chew me out.”

Erwin’s eyes widened for a fraction, but Levi catches it by now.

He makes a triumphant kind of sound that’s more bitter than anything else. “You don’t think I can’t tell? I’ve said it before, how much shit you’re full of, acting like you’ve never snapped at someone before. I can tell you have. I’m _not_ an idiot, Erwin.”

“I know you’re not.” It’s said with such sincerity that Levi almost chucks the drink at the asshole’s face.

“Then _stop_ looking at me like that.”

Erwin narrows his gaze. “You sound like you want me to get violent with you.”

“If it proves what I just said, then fucking do it.”

When Erwin doesn’t, just stares at him, Levi’s eyes widen. The feeling under his skin intensifies, tingles all throughout his chest. He clenches both fists hard. “I _won_. That’s what matters.”

Erwin lifts a finger, and Levi’s shocked at himself that he shuts up. “The ends don’t justify the means, Levi, when you can’t afford them.”

“ _Don’t_ say my name like that.”

“You’re hardly in a state to give orders, Levi.”

“You shit,” Levi reaches across fast, snatching Erwin by the collar. But he’s tired, so Erwin snags his wrist, and it yanks him partway over the island. If Erwin wanted, he could give one yank and dislocate Levi’s arm.

Levi kind of wants him to do it. He grits his teeth and holds his balance. He feels his blood bubbling again, only now it feels toxic. Worse, he doesn’t feel the anger directed mostly at Erwin. If he were a younger version of himself, he might just blame it all on the other man and wipe his hands clean of this feeling. He can’t. Not anymore.

As it is, Levi grits even harder and lowers his head so Erwin can’t fully see his expression. The marble top tries to reflect it all the same.

There’s a moment when Erwin’s grip relaxes, and that’s enough for Levi to tear himself free. He doesn’t look at Erwin as he shoves away from the counter, ignoring the way Erwin calls his name. There’s a rush of adrenaline spurning him onward again, this time right to Erwin’s door, and then out of Erwin’s home and into the night that’s still so bright with all the fucking lights from buildings and streetlights.

He doesn’t hear Erwin run after him. Levi isn’t sure why that pisses him off even more. Worse, there’s a point his feet almost stop. He grits his teeth hard, hating the urge that wants him to turn back around. Shoving his bruised hands into his pockets, Levi stomps down the feeling and keeps going.

He doesn’t feel like a winner at all.

 

**-x-**

 

It’s easy to misread the hour of the night in this city. Levi learned long ago that the sky and buildings offered no guidance on how dead into the night you were awake. It’s the noises, the smells, and a sixth sense that you pick up living long enough in that kind of shit. It's that sense that can mean the difference between waking up the next day.

So Levi knows it’s been hours since he made it back to his part of the shithole. He’s been loitering and pacing around streets he really has little business being in. But no one fucks with him even with his wallet so accessible in his pocket. It’s hardly a comfort.

He’s tired. The wind scratches at his face. He thinks back on the fight, of the weeks to it, and the many times Isabel and Farlan have been dying in his nightmares lately. Of a murdered neighbor clawing at his door, and the irrational (but somehow not) fear that it’s actually Kenny on the other side.

It’s all weighted down by the suspiciously quiet night the city has tonight. It allows for that much more thinking, of images of Erwin and the way the man hadn’t even come after Levi.

 _Stupid_ , is all Levi can think. He wonders if his fatigued state has let Eren’s choice in vocabulary rub off on him.

As Levi passes a couple of corner-working girls, they coo at him.

“Hey there.”

“Looks like you had a long day,” the other says, and Levi stops because he recognizes her, if only a little. She smiles at him when he does. “I feel like it’s been ages since I’ve seen your broody little face.”

Levi narrows his eyes. He’s sure he sees the discoloration of a bruise under sheets of makeup and the purposeful placement of the girl’s curls. Even the way she tilts her head as she takes a drag from a cigarette isn’t without consideration.  

“You’re still one of his girls,” Levi says.

She gives the kind of nonchalant smile that’s become default around these parts. With a shrug, she says, “I feel special you remember me.” To her friend, she adds with a little laugh, “He’s the one I mentioned before. The one I won a good chunk of money betting on.”

“That Pimp won,” Levi amends.

“Well,” she sighs, takes another drag, then waits until her friend crosses the street for a potential client before adding, “not so much these days, hm?”

Levi glances around furtively. He decides to linger. “You hear from him often?”

Her smile lengthens. “About you? My, someone’s full of himself. Is that how you got those pretty marks on you?”

Levi feels his blood going hot again. For an instant, he thinks he may consider bribing her, but then her smile drops and she looks away.

“Sorry,” she says, maybe meaning it, “but I’m too low on the food chain to know anything. Least of all anything that can make it worth my while telling you.”

Levi can’t recall if she always talked so openly, or if it is a product of the business she deals with. He remembers her from old days past, when she was barely Mikasa’s age, and already hanging around the likes that inevitably got her on a stained corner turning who knows how many tricks a night. Isabel seemed to like her.

It seems even more pointless he lingered to chat, as if there is anything to gain from it. But he remembers her, and she’s not dead, nor bringing up Farlan or Isabel even though she, like a lot of Pimp's people, know when people drop off. That has to count for something, but Levi's not sure it can be called a kindness.

He fingers his wallet without pulling it out, manages to hand over most of his remaining bills. The girl blinks at the cash, the need evident in the way she looks at it. She’s not dumb enough to refuse it, and her eyes sparkle.

“I took up your time,” Levi says, before she can get any ideas about what he wants. “That should cover it.”

She rolls the bills expertly with one hand and tucks them out of sight. “That you did. I’d say your parents raised you right, but,” she sticks her tongue out a moment.

Levi snorts, unable to get mad at her for the tease. He makes to to turn, but she calls to him, “Hey. I have heard though. About," she pauses, though why Levi isn't sure, "him getting out. Nothing but rumors though.”

Levi knows she means Kenny, and can’t discount the tingle that goes up his spine. First Piggy, then her. Though she waves it off as being useless information, Levi nods at her in some kind of recognition.

“Like I said,” she goes on, “it’s not much. I’m not smart enough after all to be around for those kinds of talks, apparently.”

Levi turns away again, picking up his walk. He wants to tell her the opposite, that she is smart, because she’s alive, and no amount of luck could have made that happen. But he knows it would mean little to her. At least, far less than the cash he gave her tonight.

The greater the gap between them grows, the easier it is to remember how much of this world Levi’s been a part of, so much so that he could just have easily been recycled into the abuse like that girl. Had it not been for Kenny, the world may have had a far easier time devouring Levi.

With those kinds of thoughts piling on, it feels impossible to call the day over and tuck into bed. And, with the length of time he’s had for said thoughts and nothing else, Levi knows the biggest reason why.

He hates the way he’s left things with Erwin.

He hates it as much as he hates that that’s what’s bothering him. He can feel their tension like a string all the way from here. He knows it’s severe when he realizes he hasn’t yet gone back to his place and showered, and that irks him all the more.

So, how does he ultimately end up back at the front of Erwin’s door soon after, and not at his place to at least wipe some of the filth off him? Levi figures it’s too late to ask such a dumb question.

He’s walked half the way here before submitting to a cab, or at least as much as his wallet can afford (did he unconsciously save himself some cash because he'd end up going back to Erwin?). It’s such a late hour that part of Levi is hoping Erwin’s asleep, and that he’ll have no other excuse but to go to his apartment.

But a part of him hopes the opposite, and as he waits after knocking, he feels more unsteady than he did before his fight.

Erwin answers the door. He looks like he hasn’t slept, and mostly put together. He’s in sweatpants and a shirt, if that counts for anything. What counts more though is his expression, surprised at Levi’s arrival.

“I know I fucked up,” Levi says, hating how much of a shudder it comes out as.

Erwin looks over Levi’s head, back down at him, and then steps back. After a heartbeat of hesitation, Levi treads inside. He stands awkwardly in the hallway while Erwin locks the door and faces him again.

Before he can speak again, Erwin reaches out for his wrist, drawing him closer so he could examine the neglect. Levi hasn’t care for his hands since the fight, now gone stiff from the cold. He feels his pulse beating against Erwin’s palm, the grip so sure and steady, and unlike the way Kenny would grab him, the threat of abandonment on the cusp of every interaction.

He doesn’t want to think on Kenny at all, but he does, as much as he thinks of Isabel still in a bed that’s not her own, of someone being able to step in whenever they pleased and leave flowers.

“I know,” Levi says.

Erwin’s hold relaxes, somehow feeling secured all the same. “Force can get anyone to the top, Levi,” he says, “but it won’t keep you there.”

Levi’s never seen the top. Most of his younger life, he thought he was barely keeping his head above it all. In truth he’d always been at the bottom, sucking in air that was no less virulent than what the monsters inhaled.

But he won’t stay there. That place won’t be the home Isabel comes home to.

Again, Levi says, “I know…”

Erwin’s thumb smoothes over the back of his hand, mindful of the nicks on his knuckles. It takes the worst out of the tension in Levi’s fist. “Do you want to stop?”

Levi chuckles, without mirth. At first, he thinks he has no choice, and that Erwin’s expectations might as well be dogma. Yet as he feels Erwin’s touch and remembers all the ones before, the part of Levi that’s kept himself afloat tells him he’s had, and still has, the freedom to step out of Erwin’s home.  

He could, and he’d survive. He and Erwin could part ways, and both would be fine enough. Their life wouldn’t spiral out from their wits. They wouldn’t die. Yet neither of those thoughts bring Levi any comfort. He thinks of the muck he’d slept on as a child, of the feel of his first shiv in his little palm, of his first apartment and the company that eventually came to make it a kind of home. Of making a better one.

He thinks of the girl from the corner, at how she looked at the money. He thinks of that dog and how Kenny had gutted it in front of him. How in that moment, Kenny had looked more rabid than the dog.

Slowly, Levi lifts his head. “No,” he says.

Erwin lets his satisfaction with the answer show, and his touch tightens in a different kind of way. Levi lets his wrist and hand be held, watching the way Erwin’s fingers move against his skin.

“It’s only going to be more difficult as we continue,” Erwin says.

“Yeah,” Levi says.

Erwin gives a short nod, as if solidifying some new clause to their contract. Then, Erwin gives him a look that Levi waves off.

“Even if I could sleep, I didn’t, and I don’t want to,” Levi says. He feels a little lighter, but very disgusting. “I do, however,” he adds, padding deeper into Erwin’s house, “want a shower before anything else.”

“You do smell.”

Levi can’t curse him for telling the truth.

He passes through the familiarity of Erwin’s home, past a fresh set of flowers still going strong after a week. Levi’s the one that always ends up sweeping up the petals when they wilt off. He passes them with a glance, finding none to be cleaned today.

In the bathroom, Levi doesn’t bother assessing himself in the mirror. He starts the water before shedding the few layers of clothes he’s got on. As each one collects on the cold tiles, he feels the dents on his body that much more.

Erwin crowds the doorway when Levi’s completely naked. His eyes take their time roaming over Levi, who scoffs and makes a ‘shoo’-ing motion. He doesn’t need Erwin telling him how to shower.

“I can shower fine on my own,” Levi says. “I won’t fall asleep I said. Plus, it’s been hours, hasn’t it?”

“I want to join you.”

Levi feels a tickle race up his spine. It’s the first time he’s really heard Erwin express a desire as unabashed as this one. It leaves him feeling more unsteady than he does from the drop in bloodlust.

So Levi just glances away, then steps in the shower wordlessly. It’s enough for Erwin, who finishes undressing before coming to settle behind Levi the way he tends to in the shower.

“You know it’s unhealthy,” Levi says, turning his head slightly, “to repress your anger. You have a complex.”

“You don’t make me angry.”

“Bullshit. Everyone makes everyone angry at some point.”

“You sound like you take pride in trying to aggravate me.”

“Aggravate,” Levi repeats with a snort, turning away to reach for the soap. “Only you would say it like that.”

Erwin doesn’t respond. Not with his voice, anyway; his hands easily steal the soap out of Levi’s grip and hold it out of reach. When Levi starts a protest, Erwin’s mouth does a good job of quieting it down. It usually does.

Soon, Erwin’s hands are lathered, and Levi is close to pointing out that this isn’t the proper way to be thoroughly cleaned. And as if Erwin anticipates the argument, his fingers make a point of proving him wrong. They start at Levi’s arms, rubbing, both washing and massaging, wide hands so easily capable of holding a full arm in one grip. But they don’t grab, only smooth down the length of Levi’s arms, palming over the back of his hands, strong fingers getting into the crooks between each of Levi’s, not quite entwining their hands.

There’s not one part of this that isn’t ridiculous to Levi. He stands awkwardly against Erwin’s chest, which feels hotter than the spray of water bouncing off Erwin and sprinkling onto Levi. No one’s ever really bathed him, and this sort of foreplay feels like new territory to which Erwin knows all the laws to.

It leaves him shuddering a little too easily when Erwin’s hands sweep up the underside of his arms, the delicate ridges of his ribcage. All the while, Erwin’s mouth plants moist kisses on the back of his neck, his shoulders.

It’s a long process, but not once is Erwin compelled to rush his work. His hands don’t treat the expanse of Levi’s back any less meticulously than he did between each finger. The kisses pause as Erwin washes and works the muscles in Levi’s back, letting the water hit him as he does so. It means another round of soap for Erwin’s hands, but he can afford more if they run out.

Gradually, the more Erwin’s hands touch, the more Levi feels himself unwind. They don’t talk, and Levi doesn’t feel the urge to say anything. He almost closes his eyes at the attention, until he feels Erwin kneeling behind him, and those large hands are working on his legs.

Levi tenses, looking down at Erwin’s diligence. Before he can demand Erwin get back up (though a part of him thinks the man looks good kneeling), Erwin’s hands start working on his inner thighs. Levi has to steady himself against the wall when Erwin definitely introduces his mouth and nails into the ministrations.

The kisses are on his low back now, the little dimples getting the bulk of the affection at first before Erwin’s tongue drags further down. Each leg is scrubbed and massaged, and a tap to Levi’s foot is all it takes for it to be raised and tended to.

Levi jolts at one point when his toes get the same treatment as everything else, and Erwin’s chuckle makes his face feel hot.

“I’m not ticklish,” he says. It comes out breathy and he’s sure Erwin ignores it.

Once his feet are both planted back on the shower, Levi glances back to see Erwin rinsing his hands. He’s still kneeling, lifting his head. Catching his fighter looking at him, Erwin does a circular sweeping motion with one finger. Levi decides to obey it and turns back.

By now he’s ready to melt into bed. Just before his patience thins even more, Erwin’s got his hands back on him, each going to the last places that had yet to be washed on Levi’s person. The touch to Levi’s front is mindful, touching in an admiring kind of way that has Levi wiggle his hips. The second comes more intensely, a pressure not lost to Levi as Erwin fondles a place several of his fingers have been inside.

Levi shudders and exhales, planting a hand against the wall more firmly, pushing his forehead against the back of his hand. But, Erwin’s finger doesn’t seal the deal as it usually does. It plays and nearly gets there, until suddenly the touch retreats entirely. It’s only for a moment, but it leaves Levi cold until all of Erwin’s fingers migrate to his backside, press into his skin and spread him.

“What--” the rest is sucked in a hiss, and were it not for Levi’s hand, he would have smacked his head into the tiles. Shivers shoot up from his toes to the tips of his ears, a sharp contrast in sensation to the heat of Erwin’s tongue working against him, and then in him.

“Fuck,” the curses become Levi’s mantra, his eyes gone shut at some point so that it’s his other senses sharpening the feel of Erwin working him open with his own saliva and the aid of the still running water.

It’s too much on Levi’s sore legs, that quiver, and he swears he’s going to buckle until Erwin’s slowly pulling back after what feels like hours of sheer will keeping him from turning into puddy. There’s a lewd sound as Erwin detaches, but his hands are swift to grab onto Levi’s waist, keeping him afloat as he straightens up.

Something in Erwin cracks as he does, and he grunts.

Levi can’t help it. Hunched over as he is, he laughs. Shuddering and quiet, but it’s a laugh all the same.

Then, Erwin shares in the moment, because clearly he’s getting to that age where he can’t just be kneeling with his face in someone’s ass and think his body won’t feel it. By the second crack Levi hears, his shoulder had gotten stiff too.

Levi turns around. He reaches out and squeezes the tender area of Erwin’s shoulder in a way he knows alleviates the tension. He must have a look about him because Erwin’s lip twitches.

“What?” Erwin says.

“Just thinking that your water bill’s going to be high this month.”

Erwin doesn’t seem to care. He reaches back to turn off the water, but not for the reason Levi’s laughed about. It’s curious, Levi thinks, how he can see the heaviness in Erwin’s gaze when other times he can’t, like a pressure all around him that takes his breath away in just the right way.

Water draining, Erwin maneuvers them expertly in the bathroom. The steam keeps the room moderately warm as Erwin envelops Levi in a towel so plush it’s laughable. Somehow, through rubbing and kissing, they stumble out without slipping and cracking anything open.

The towels get forgotten on the carpet of Erwin’s room, the sheets of the bed cold when Levi lays back into them. Erwin’s warmth blankets over him as the man looms over him, one hand planted beside Levi’s head.

Levi accepts the staring, doing the same thing back long enough, memorizing the way Erwin’s hair falls what way when wet, how the droplets travel down his neck, then drop onto Levi’s chest. Eventually Levi listens to the urge to pull Erwin down by his good arm so they can kiss again.

This time, it’s the longest one yet, Levi’s hands roaming through Erwin’s damp hair freely, pushing up into his body, feeling the ways they can mold against each other without breaking the kiss.

It’s interrupted when Levi takes in a deep breath at the cool, moist welcome of Erwin’s finger sliding in. He blows out the air slow and easy, not unlike the way Erwin has taught him, and maybe with a slight intent for this reason.

Levi presses down as Erwin takes his damn time with each finger. His bright eyes stay on Levi throughout, taking in the full image of Levi shifting around the way he spreads his digits, pushes up, thrusts in slow and long, memorizing the reactions.

Even with all the fresh touch of a fight on his body, Erwin looks at him as if nothing else can match the sight. Levi reaches up to play with Erwin’s hair, liking the way the strands scratch against his banged up hands. The bandages can come later.

The only words that fill the space between them are the ones Erwin can tease out with his fingers, the way he catches Levi’s wrist once in his mouth and bites, how his free hand bears down on Levi’s hip, a divine pressure that’s more pain than the pleasure Erwin’s three fingers balance it with.

Then, when Levi’s all hard breaths and quivering thighs, there’s a brief disruption as Erwin tugs a loose pillow to tuck under Levi’s lower back. The angle offers a shameless view, Levi’s legs comfortably splaying over the thickness of Erwin’s thighs. He likes the way Erwin looks between them.

“You’re such a sap,” Levi says, quiet. He takes in the sight of Erwin’s body and touches what he can. Erwin flashes a humored look at him that wanes as he presses closer, a hand anchoring down on Levi’s hip. It’s all the preamble they bother with.

Gazes finding each other and the deafening sound of their easy breaths, and then Erwin, fucking finally, sinks in. Levi’s lower back arches, his head tilting back as he braces himself and loses eye contact. Erwin’s hands hold his hip again in a promise, holding him in place. But it’s too much, and when it gets too much, Levi grips hard onto Erwin with one hand as he exhales the worst of the discomfort, then eases his hold. Each time Erwin has to wait, Levi can feel his thumb rubbing circles on his hip.

When Erwin’s buried deep, holding steady, a low sound ripples from him and through into Levi’s body. He opens his eyes, unsure when he screwed them shut, and finds Erwin’s head dipped low, muscles taut.

Levi takes in deep breaths as he endures the rush of sensations pulsing through him in time with his heartbeat. It takes more effort than he likes to admit to force his leg to budge and nudge his knee against Erwin’s rib as hard as he can.

Erwin lifts his head, eyebrows furrowed.

“Think your dick is made of steel? Fucking move already.”

There’s a slight noise that might be a chuckle from Erwin, but then it’s lost when Erwin pulls out fast, drawing out a hiss from Levi, and then snapping forward. It’s perfect.

Levi’s head falls back, the shout that comes out of him far from his control. Erwin does it again, and it’s just as good as the first thrust, only this time Erwin groans and it might be the best sound Levi’s heard.

“Ah…! Fuck…” Levi’s fingers fist in the sheets where they can, but it’s barely leverage against each thrust of Erwin’s hips, their strength mounting with each passing one it feels. His body’s held firm against Erwin’s, hands pressing his hips down, gripping his thighs.

And then, there’s a shift as Erwin clamps his hands under Levi’s knees, and suddenly everything intensifies. Levi doesn’t have any luxury of time to remark on how wide he’s held open, or how he can feel the burn of the man’s stare on his skin.

“Ah!” Levi grits his teeth, and isn’t sure why he turns his face away. He grips harder onto the now warm bedding, thinking he might drown in the sounds of Erwin pounding into him. He’s fine with drowning.

“Levi.”

The way Erwin rolls his name pulls at something deep in Levi. His muscles somehow tense and relax simultaneously, and a new kind of shiver rushes down his back. Erwin’s slowed down now, but his gaze is no less heavy on him.

Levi looks back, feeling flushed down to his toes. Suddenly the sheets aren’t enough and Levi reaches out. Erwin lets go of his legs and crawls slightly up on the bed, using one hand to keep Levi steady as he obeys the gesture, filling in the empty space between Levi’s arms.

It brings their bodies closer, Erwin deeper into him. Levi can feel everything that much stronger now, feel the way Erwin’s breath is hitched as much as his own, how hot his body has become as he presses his fingertips into the muscle of Erwin’s back.

Levi tilts up for a kiss, squeezes his legs around Erwin’s waist and ribs, and it’s all the encouragement before Erwin’s hips move again. Where they were sharp and hard before, they’re lazy now, a circular thrust, a long withdrawal only for an even longer push back in.

Their kiss breaks, and Levi’s hands grab everywhere, learning Erwin’s reactions. A squeeze slows Erwin’s hips, a hard hold has Erwin thrust into him at the same pace again, again, and again, and then, when Levi feels himself want more, he scratches down and Erwin’s jerking his hips hard into him again, their breaths, groans, curses mixing.

Levi cups the back of Erwin’s head and there’s kisses leaving marks all along his neck, and bites that won’t last as long as the hickeys, but feel just as good.

And then, when Levi wants that much more, he pants out encouragement and scratches harder, tightens his thighs harder around Erwin. It leaves him shouting, and makes Erwin adjust his position so his bad arm is wrapped around Levi’s shoulders.

It’s exhilarating, seeing Erwin’s face contort, his jaw go lax, then tighten, his teeth grit, eyes screw shut, all the while as sounds dribble out of him. Levi drinks it all in, swallowing every noise he can squeeze out of Erwin as the thrusts come harder, more precise.

The curses fall out half-broken from Levi’s lips all the while. He grinds himself up against Erwin’s stomach, clenches around, and everything is Erwin suffocating him in and out, and then he’s coming with Erwin’s full name off his tongue.

The adrenaline crashes hard on him. Erwin rides the ends of the orgasm and feels how Levi’s body squeezes that much more around him. Then three more exact thrusts, and Levi’s name sounds delicious as a groan from him.

They breathe.

Erwin folds forward. Their foreheads, slick, bump gently. Levi watches as much of Erwin’s softening face as he can. He reaches up despite himself, rests weary arms around Erwin as the man’s orgasm completes through a final shudder.

“Shit,” Levi breathes. Everything throbs ten times more now, and he’s more than satisfied with that. He winces when Erwin gives a slow thrust forward again. “Fuck, what are you…”

Erwin groans into his neck, sounding as though he might doze off.

“Don’t even try to fall asleep on me,” Levi says, but it’s still breathless and with no bite. He wiggles underneath, both of them untangling enough for Erwin to withdraw. But instead of dropping down next to Levi, Erwin keeps himself upright, looking down at a particular spot.

“You’re more a perv than I thought,” Levi says, letting Erwin watch what trickles out.

Erwin’s gaze jumps to him, and somehow it’s still sharp and aware. Softened, but still there.

“So are you.” Erwin’s voice has taken a leisurely tilt to it, and finally he stretches out beside Levi with a sigh.

“I admit it at least.” Levi turns his head, fascinated at how Erwin’s chest takes in deep breaths. “Do you feel better?”

Erwin shifts onto his side, an arm coming to rest on Levi’s waist like it’s meant to fit there. He doesn’t ask Levi what he means, and says, “I do.”

Levi reaches up and flicks a loose strand of Erwin’s hair, then another. He is sure he’ll feel the remnants of Erwin’s ‘aggravation’, as he calls it, on his body tomorrow, along with everything else.

“I should have trained you better,” Erwin says, catching Levi’s hand to inspect it.

“Shut the fuck up, Erwin.”

The asshole smiles against Levi’s palm.

“I’m still here, aren’t I,” Levi adds, feeling the need to clean up again. He blames Erwin’s arm on his waist more than the fatigue preventing him from doing just that.

“I see that,” Erwin says. “And in the morning?”

“God, you’re a talker after sex.” Levi’s heart does a weird palpitation thing though. He inhales deep and then snatches a clean pillow that got lost in the corner of the bed. With his free hand he fluffs it before dropping hard into it, eyes shutting.

“I don’t talk that much.”

“Erwin?”

“Are you going to tell me to shut up?” But it’s quieter this time, dipping low with the creeping of sleep.

Levi feels Erwin scoot closer and tug an abandoned blanket up to their hips. He cracks open an eye in time to see Erwin’s face relax into pre-sleep.

“Maybe tomorrow I will,” Levi says, but it’s barely heard, and it won’t be until he wakes up will he be both disgusted and surprised that he dozed off without a (second) shower.

But it may have been worth it.

 

-x-

 

“You’re not staying the rest of the day?”

“I miss my bed. Plus, I’m sick of your face.”

“Hm. Tomorrow then. At the cafe?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Mind your hands. No workout tonight. Do a warm-up and stretch. We’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

“You know for someone who’s gotten laid you’re being the opposite of not-annoying.”

Erwin’s response comes after a parting kiss in his doorway.

“See you tomorrow, Levi.”

**-x-**

  


“This is boring.”

It’s the third time Eren’s expressed an opinion Levi hasn’t asked for. That’s twice in the same aisle, and under a half hour. Though Eren kind of muttered it the second time, as if Levi couldn’t have heard him not fifteen fucking feet away.

“Hey.” Levi lifts his head up, tempted to chuck a cabbage at Eren’s face so he’ll at least be too busy dodging it instead of bitching. “It sounds like you’re being an ungrateful little shit.”

Eren straightens up, going pink in the ears, and lowering his gaze. As he’s been doing all morning, he sneaks a peek at Levi’s bandaged hands. He’s already asked about it, and has received multiple answers that weren’t so much answers as they were colorful expressions to stop asking questions. Luckily he doesn’t ask again, and instead shoves his hands in his pockets as he comes closer to stand by Mikasa, who at the least has been paying attention to Levi’s words.

“Sorry,” Eren mumbles, “but when you said we were going out....” He shrugs as if to gesture to the grocery store and all the excitement it lacks.

“You two are old enough to make your own shit sometimes,” Levi says, handing another bag for Mikasa to put in the basket. “I’m sick of seeing you eat that garbage take-out every time I’m not around.”

“Maybe Eren does it so you’ll come by more,” Mikasa says, and though there’s no inflection to her voice, the way Eren glares at her tells Levi they must have been bickering lately. One less drama he wants to be a part of.

Really though, this isn’t exactly Levi’s idea of a thrill either, but it’s got to be done, and that’s what you do when your life has some order. No, even if it doesn’t, proper food and meals are a staple to any life.

It’s only that Eren acts as if Levi expects them to enjoy their time together here after the dismal scene he encountered coming back home. He’d been warm and almost relaxed leaving Erwin’s place, thinking he’d take the evening quietly after checking in on Eren and Mikasa. Of course, not only did he find their door unlocked again, but a sickly cocktail of pizza boxes, mostly empty donut containers, packets of sauces from that one Chinese restaurant but no evidence of their takeout boxes, and two stretched out teenagers looking like they’d crossed the precipice into a food coma.

When Eren finally noticed Levi staring, horrified, he’d only said in explanation, “Dad’s money came today.”

Disgusting.

Thus ended Levi’s good mood after leaving Erwin’s place, and here he is now teaching the kids something their Father-of-the-Year should have covered years ago.

“Cooking can be fun,” Levi said. “At the least, therapeutic.”

“Maybe if you have pyrophilia,” Eren says, not successfully under his breath.

Levi gives him a look and moves on. He can hear them filing in behind him, and he really hopes it’s not giving the impression of a duck and her chicks following behind. He walks a little faster to reach the end of the produce before signaling for Eren to grab a bag.

“What’s that?” Eren’s nose wrinkles as he bags the green stuff.

“Kale.”

“It feels rough.”

“I don’t know how Mikasa puts up with you.”

Mikasa actually lifts one shoulder at that, which earns her yet another look from Eren. If it wasn’t for Levi making a warning sound, he doesn’t doubt they would have started something, public location or not.

He’s on the verge of snapping his fingers to reel in their full attention when he hears a voice that instantly grabs all of his.

  
“Levi?”

It’s Erwin’s voice, unmistakeable. And it’s here, despite all the things telling Levi there’s no way Erwin would be here. At least, not by coincidence.

Levi’s skin falls cold. Yet, somehow, the inside of his chest gets warm. Turning around never felt like such a task, and Levi’s not sure why it should, but it does.

The sight of Erwin doesn’t make Levi feel any less aware of the way Eren’s energy is skyrocketing behind him. Nor does this make it any less of a reality and a bit like deja vu. Only this time he’s not holding something phallic.

For now, anyway.

Erwin gives him a soft kind of smile, the one that doesn’t reveal a whole lot. The one Levi likes to think means Erwin is both calculating something and amused by what he’s looking at.

Levi actually can’t bring anything to come out of his throat.

“Hey.” Of course he can’t be surprised it’s Eren who blurts something out first.  “Who are you?” And there’s definitely a tremor in his voice, a blend of his apprehension at confronting a big guy like Erwin and the reminder of what happened the last time someone knew Levi came by. Though the looks between the two were far and wide.

Erwin’s gaze ticks too easily over Levi’s head and takes in the sight of the two. In that one glance Levi can tell that Erwin’s deduces the kids for what they are: Levi’s brats.

Levi swears he sees the right corner of Erwin’s mouth twitch.

“Hello,” Erwin says, because of course he knows how to play polite, even to a couple of teens. There’s a brief way that he looks at Levi that suggests he’s unsure of how much information Levi’s divulged about him. “I’m Erwin.”

Levi feels Eren take a step closer to him. “Are you a friend of his?” Eren asks.

Erwin’s looking at Levi, letting him take the reigns of the answer.

“We work together,” Levi says.

“Work?” Eren’s curiosity is more than evident in his tone. “What work?” His eyes drop to Levi’s hands again, briefly. Smart little asshole.

“The kind that’s not your business.” Levi nudges the boy back before he can try and get closer to Erwin, though if it’s for his sake or Erwin’s, he can’t commit to an answer on that.

“So he’s a friend,” Eren says. Some days, Levi almost wonders how the train of logic functions inside of Eren’s brain.

Levi glares back at him. “What? I just said he works with me.”

“Oh.” Eren sounds like his conclusion still makes more sense, judging by how his gaze jumps back between Levi and Erwin. It stays on Erwin when he says, “I’ve never seen you.”

“I don’t get out much,” Erwin says, like he’s got no problem answering any question Eren might have. In fact, he sounds like he’s kind of enjoying it.

“Are you--”

Levi snatches Eren by the bicep with just enough oomph to shut up his question. “We have to go,” he says, in part to Erwin. He signals for Mikasa to guide them toward the front where the registers wait.

“Oh,” Erwin says, glancing around before plucking a chilled drink nearby (he totally doesn't even look at which one), “me too. I’ll join you.”

So Erwin does, lining up right behind Levi with a face of a man who seems on the cusp of breaking into a hum. Levi tries to ignore him, but he’s all aware at how the man’s keeping close, looking them all over, probably making stupid notes about Mikasa and Eren in his stupid head.

And naturally, Eren can’t act like he’s not interested. He shifts as they wait in line together now.

“How long have you known Levi?” he asks.

“Not long. Less than you.”

“How do you know how long I’ve known him?”

“Don’t encourage him, Eren,” Levi says, but standing between Eren’s inquisitiveness and Erwin’s massive presence leaves him feeling trapped.

“Encourage him? How? I’m just wondering. I never see your, um...friends.” Eren bites his lip at how bad that sounds.

“I appreciate your curiosity,” Erwin says, meaning it. “It’s good to ask questions like that.”

Eren is practically preening, and Levi’s left collecting his thoughts on how the conversation is getting away from him so fast.

“Really?” Eren asks, eyes going back to Levi. “So can I ask why you never mentioned him before?”

“No,” Levi says.

“He kind of already did,” Erwin says, which will earn him a cheap shot the next time they train.

“But Levi talks about me then,” Eren says, proving once again that he may be a wild nuisance, but a keen one. At least on the things he wants to be keen on. “You sounded like you knew about me.”

“Maybe a little,” Erwin says, his smile widening. Levi wants to punch both of them. “Though not by name.”

“Eren. And this is Mikasa.”

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Erwin even nods toward Mikasa, who's been silently observing Erwin and reserving her analysis on him. She offers a short nod back, at the least.

“Yes, fine and dandy,” Levi says, staring hard at the teller’s hands as if that alone will will them to scan shit faster.

“So you don’t live around here?” Eren asks.

“Stop asking him questions,” Levi says. “He’s not interesting. He’s tall, blonde, and boring.”

“I feel a little insulted,” Erwin says.

Eren smiles a little. “But you’re friends even though he’s boring?”

“I never said he was my friend.” Levi most certainly does not think of what he and Erwin were doing in the bed yesterday. He gives Eren a gentle shove when it’s finally their turn to the front. He makes sure Eren’s squeezed forward so he the space between him and Erwin expands wide enough.

There’s a moment of success when Eren spots his preferred candy on the impulse shelves and grabs four of them. Levi pries them out of his hands and hands him one to have purchased. Mikasa, after observing the scene, picks one too, and Levi lets her, even though he knows at least half will be given to Eren.

He pretends that Erwin isn’t right behind him.

It’s stupid, the way Levi then talks a little louder than necessary to the teller as a feeble method of obstructing the progress of Erwin and Eren’s conversation.

The instant he’s paid (all on his own, thanks very much), he’s bullying the kids toward the exit. Eren’s feet are suspiciously heavy today and drag, his head turning to catch glimpses of Erwin finish his quick purchase.

They’re all outside, and Levi distributes his share of the bags evenly between Eren and Mikasa.

“Go home. I’ll catch up,” he tells them.

The two share a look that Levi isn’t able to read. He points in the direction they should already be walking, and hardens his tone before either one can pick an excuse to loiter. “Home.”

Once they’re a safe enough distance away, going far slower than typical, Levi looks back at Erwin. “How convenient you’re around. Again.”

“It really was a coincidence. I was going to meet you at the shop like usual.”

“Stop that.”

“What?”

“Your stupid smile.”

Erwin looks in the direction the kids are taking, noting the way they keep sneaking peeks back and walking much slower than average. “You sound like you don’t want me to meet them.”

“You sound like you wanted to.”

“Alright,” Erwin lifts a hand as if in defense, “I was coming early to the cafe and saw you come in.”

“So you weren’t in there by coincidence.”

“I think that’s all in the past now.”

“Funny how the past repeats itself.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

Levi cocks his head. “Unless it’s me winning.”

Erwin smiles, satisfied with that. The urge to touch the man is as strong as the cold chilling his cheeks. Levi’s glad he’s never cared about labels or he’d be tripping over all the names to stamp between whatever this thing between him and Erwin is.

Levi breaks eye contact quick enough to make sure the kids haven’t found a way to sneak back.

“How’s your lower back feeling?” Erwin asks, none too quietly.

“You have a pretty big opinion on your own cock.”

Erwin laughs. Levi smiles, just a little.

“Fuck off, Erwin,” Levi says, turning away to stop the smile from growing. “I’ll see you later, if you can handle being out of my presence that long.”

“Who has a pretty big opinion of themselves now?” Erwin asks, but he doesn’t follow.

When Levi’s finally back at his place, there’s little to take the edge off Eren’s questions.

At some point, to try and get the boy to shut up, Levi says, “Yeah, he’s a friend. Does that unbunch your panties?”

“A new friend?”

“What the hell does it matter? I don’t hate him. That’s more than enough.”

“I wonder if we’ll see him again.”

“You should be wondering if you have any homework to be doing.”

“He seems...like a good person. Don’t you think, Mikasa?”

“He’s tall.”

“Yeah. That too. Really, hm, clean-shaven, huh?”

Mikasa shrugs in a half-hearted agreement. She’s looked at Levi’s hands more than once before too since they’ve gotten home.

“Why don’t you marry him if you care so much,” Levi says, shoving a cutting board into Eren’s chest. The brat’s looking at him with more scrutiny than usual. Levi even swears there’s a weird smile growing on him. “What are you looking at.”

“What? Oh.” Eren looks away. “N-Nothing.”

“Stop smiling then.”

“Right.”

But Eren doesn’t, and the topic of Erwin is put on hold for the pressing lesson on self-cooking a meal that consists of more nutrients than junk.

And when it’s all done and the kids look in awe at their self-cooked meals, savoring every bite, Levi supposes he’s got the feel of a smile in him, too.

  
**-X-**  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmygosh so so sorry for the delay in this chapter. Things changed at work and then I wasn't happy with what I wrote a long time. Re-reading your comments really helped inspire me and thanks to [Birbwin](http://birbwin.tumblr.com/), I was able to really finish it up.
> 
> So I hope y'all don't mind it was more like a smut filler than anything else. I hope it was well received anyway. And I hope the little OCs aren't a bother. They aren't the emphasis (hence why they don't really get names), and just help to establish the world around Levi and his interaction with it, but I still try to keep it to a minimum.
> 
> BUT THANK YOU ;O; Really. All your kudos, and the comments, it fueled me to get this done when I hated everything I was writing about it.
> 
> As a side note, the remark about Levi being a duck with chicks Eren and Mikasa behind him was inspired from Birbwin too.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you! There would be no more chapters without you all.
> 
> Also feel free to talk Eruri feels with me at [my tumblr](http://www.hisboywriter.tumblr.com)


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